#why is my mother allowed to have a high school diploma and nothing else and I'm not? why is she allowed to be a graphic designer;

[light-wrath-paradise]

Honest to god might go nuclear and just drop out of university.

Like fuck that noise I tried it didn't work out now it's time for plan "I get to live my life."

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 13

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Read Chapters 1-12: Masterlist

Taglist: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: swearing, memory whump kind of, not much else actually.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A WANING CRESCENT

“Say cheese!”

“Cheese!”

There was a flash of light.

Shazia threw her arms around Arch’s neck as Lyrem pulled away to inspect his photo. Their graduation robes weighed them down heavily and it was hot in the upper floor of the theatre, but they both managed a wide grin for the camera regardless. Arch pulled off their graduation cap and ruffled their short feathery hair after the insistent hug. Then, they played with the little green tassel on top, weaving it through a finger as their diploma was held in the same hand.

The idle twitching ceased as Benjamin strode up the stairs to the third level of the building abandoning his parents on the second floor. His freckled face and mess of dark auburn hair cradled his excitable expression about the chartered limos arriving. Arch handed off their cap and diploma to Lyrem, and pulled off the robe with a grateful sigh throwing it over the return desk. Their mauve rhine-stoned romper twinkled in the yellow lighting as well as their short white heels to match.

“Wait,” Lyrem commanded to the three before they were to abandon the rest of the adults for the night.

Arch stood in place. Lyrem wanted another photo.

He took his share of pictures and ushered the graduates off to enjoy their own night. Arch deserved a night of reckless fun. They had been so down lately. Likely because of all the changes they had been going through. Graduating high school was an exciting event, but also one that would mean the end of many friendships, and the end of a regular schedule. For Arch, it would also mean the end of a normal world. The last specks of their innocence would be tossed away like their graduation cap into the crowd. Lyrem held onto it now. He held onto it and would probably put it on display.

“Stay safe and stay out of trouble!” He shouted, seeing the last fluff of hair disappear down the steps as Arch turned the corner. He smiled to himself endearingly and sighed.

“Kids,” a voice tutted behind him. “Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

Lyrem straightened to a rigid board at the sound.

“Hekate,” he addressed, slowly, he turned toward the Goddess of the Moon. She watched him like a mother seeing their infant walk for the first time. A pitiful, sweet look it was. He grimaced toward her. “To what, do I owe the pleas”-

His voice cut out. Rude.

She breathed in deeply… and out. In the lighting and dispersing foot traffic, she very nearly glowed in her elegance, though she was wearing only a casual business outfit, striped trousers and a simple button up blouse, it made her beautifully dark complexion pop.

“I do enjoy your silence. Walk with me?”

If Lyrem had the ability to make a sound, Hekate may have heard a grumble from him. But he did as she requested, and followed the Goddess down the wide staircase, causing himself to wince with every third step. His knees were not quite as spry and healthy as they once were, if he were able to, he would have requested the use of the elevator instead. She descended the stairs elegantly beside him, as if she were floating.

“You seem to be happy,” She commented. “I like to see my children happy.”

Lyrem nodded, feigning a smile toward her as he clung to the banister. She wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Unfortunately, the time has come for you to deliver me what you owe.”

“What I owe?” His voice worked again, a single chance from her to provide the correct response. Knowing he failed, he didn’t bother to speak another time.

“Just because the woman you raised from death left you for another man, does not mean that your debt has been forgiven, Lyrem.”

He nodded, understandingly as they met the bottom of the stairs finally. His legs, thankful for the relief.

She smiled warmly. “You are in debt with several other God’s and Great Spirits as well as myself, are you not?”

Lyrem looked off to the glass doors; the last of the limousines drove off into the evening twilight. He refused to answer her, having one God after his literal heart was bad enough, to be reminded that there was yet another, was a kick in the pants.

“Hades demands your life and gained power as well, does he not?”

His head snapped back to her, his eyes wider, his thoughts and reckless nature betraying him. His voice worked again.

“How do you know about that?”

“You really believed you could trap the God of the Underworld in a Labyrinth?”

“Fuck.”

Hekate laughed.

“Do not fret, my child. He cannot reach the surface and so you are safe as long as you can avoid his… chosen emissaries.”

Lyrem nodded. “Well, that I can do.”

“Hm.” Hakate voiced absently. Strolling outside, she stared toward the west, where the sun was sinking behind the city buildings. “You’ve avoided paying your debts with many of us. Whether changing your name to avoid the fae, or substituting the sacrifice of your own life with the lives of others, or by throwing us into your little holes with help from silly little demons…”

Lyrem remained silent, waiting for the Goddess to finish.

“But from you, I have seen neither hide nor hair. I have been waiting for a scheme to arise, I was curious to see what you might come up with to shake me off your tail.”

“I don’t scheme,” he spouted at her, offended. “I plan.”

She smirked, yet again. Nothing ever seemed to upset this one. Nothing ever offended, or caused her to stray from her task at hand. Perhaps that was what disturbed Lyrem about her so. She never seemed to care. And yet she cared.

“There is no plan?” She asked. “Not for me?”

Lyrem fell into silence again. It was so tempting to tell her everything. She drew a calmness out of him that very few were ever capable of. He cleared his throat and straightened his posture.

“You gave me more than anyone else could. I would never trade my years with Maria for anything. I would not try evade what I owe to you for that favour.” He shuddered. Arch wasn’t ready yet. This was an earlier visit than he had been planning for, but Aurelius would tell him to accept his fate and be thankful for it, so, Lyrem tried. “If what you demand from me Hekate, is my life, my power, and essence, then I will go with you tonight and I will not challenge my fate any longer. I respect you too highly for that.”

“That is reassuring, but not what I need from you,” She interrupted him, touched by the gentle mention of his ex-wife. She stared at him expectantly.

“There is a plan.” Lyrem succumbed. “A retirement plan… I knew that eventually, one of my creditors would come to collect. Whether it be you or some other”- he sighed, and shook his head. “It’s Arch.”

“Ah, your latest…” Hekate raised a thick dark brow, “investment.”

“That might be one way of describing them, yes.” Stoically, as he tried, his composure faltered, ever so slightly.

“You care about them?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Hm.”

Lyrem stopped at the road side, seeing his SUV parked across the street, he pulled his keys from his back pocket.

“Why are you here, Hekate?” he finally managed. “If not to settle my debt, then why have you come?”

She sighed, staring up to the sky above them that was growing different shades. In a couple hours, the world would be plunging into a deep darkness.

“I simply wanted to understand.” She spoke gently, then addressed him with a warmness that nearly made him buckle under her gaze. “I wanted to understand you… I am forgiving your debt.”

Lyrem blinked, taken aback by the sudden generosity.

“Excuse me?” He voiced.

She nodded to him.

“I… I don’t understand.” Lyrem stared at her, suspicious of her words. Disbelieving of her decision. “You gave me Maria back. I cannot ever repay you for that”-

“Exactly.” She said knowingly. “And you think me to take your little friend’s life in replacement of your own? That would be well and truly barbaric- not my style at all. You know this.

And I see now that there was once a time when you made deals to prosper, to control of the world around you; you made agreements to fill your pockets and to bring you pleasure- and that was with all sorts of spirits and demons and demi-gods”- she huffed. “But with me, you asked for your love to be returned to you. You loved another so much that you even allowed her to leave you for another man. I never once thought that you were capable of such a noble deed.

And here you are, trying to live a part of life that you never thought you could have… Do you know what is more valuable to a Goddess than the saintly wishes of a good man?”

Lyrem was confused. She had this effect on him the first time as well.

“… No.”

“The saintly wishes of a bad man.”

“Ah.”

“If there is one thing you can do in return for me, it’s to take care of those that care about you. Pay off your debts with the others, be accountable for what you have done.”

Lyrem tilted his head slightly.

“… But that isn’t all necessary, is it?”

She smirked, and looked into him one final time.

“Goodbye Lyrem, your debt to me is forgiven.”

She melted into the darkness until nothing remained behind, leaving Lyrem to ponder what this change in heart would well and truly mean for himself… and more importantly, Arch.

[thiagoborges]

( henry zaga. twenty-four. he/him. ) i think i just saw THIAGO BORGES ride by on a golf cart . at least i think it was them . after all , SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL BY THE ROLLING STONES was blasting on the transistor radio . maybe they were on their way to work , i hear they’re a CADDY . but they totally could have been on their way to FLIRT WITH A COCKTAIL WAITRESS AT THE BAR . guess we’ll never know . you’ll definitely know its them when you see VODKA IN A WATER BOTTLE, WORN OUT CONVERSE SNEAKERS, HYPOCRITE SMILES around the country club . let’s just hope they stay off the green after hours or else the sprinklers will get them !

ooc info

hello, my name is ana (she/her) from gmt+1! i’m on summer break so expect me to be as active as i can!!!! also please bear with me because thiago is a new muse, so i’m still figuring him out which is why this intro might be a mess. so if you’d like to plot please hit me up

01. stats

NAME: thiago martim borges madeira

GENDER: cis male

PLACE OF BIRTH: belo horizonte, brazil

DATE OF BIRTH: february 1, 1997

AGE: twenty-four

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

OCCUPATION: caddy

02. quick bio

born in belo horizonte, brazil; thiago lived a somewhat comfortable life. his father was a very good surgeon and his mother worked in marketing. 

being an only child, it shouldn’t be a surprised that he was very spoiled and as he grew older his attitude showed the consequences of never denying him anything.

thiago never had a plan in mind. whenever people asked him about his future he would say that he “would worry about that later” but later never came.

by his senior year of high school, thiago was doing everything but worrying about post graduation. he was out there throwing parties, or going to parties, skipping important classes to go and have fun with people he had just met. 

tw drugs & alcohol: for most of his adolescence, thiago was either drunk or stoned. his parents knew but they pretty much said “i pretend i do not see it” and did nothing to make something out of their kid.

by some miracle he managed to graduate (that miracle being his dad paying for his diploma pretty much). 

just a few weeks after his graduation, his father was offered a position in a hospital in ohio and the family left brazil for cleveland. 

thiago absolutely hateeeeed cleveland. he thought it was the most boring place on earth and he wondered why of all the cities in the country, his father had chosen this one?

because of the move, he didn’t have time to apply for a university in the us (not like he was planning attending university at all) so in order to teach his son a lesson, he made him find a job.

in a span of a year, thiago had 15 jobs because for one or another reason he kept getting fired. he was reckless, rude, irresponsible or arrived at work drunk or high.

sick of it, his father threatened him to cut him off if this behavior continued and pretty much forced him to apply to college.

to everyone’s surprised he was admitted into chapman university where he chose studying communication and journalism because it sounded “easy”

loyal to his old ways, thiago didn’t change and pretty much just pretended to attend classes and he even forged his grades to show his dad that he was reformed man

the whole ruse lasted for almost four years (two of which he hadn’t been enrolled in school and he spent the money his parents’ sent to him in parties, drugs and alcohol). 

but graduation was upon him and there was no way he could keep lying and while he was planning an elaborated ploy to make his parents believe he had graduated, they stopped by to surprise him

however, they took the surprise to find out their son had been lying.

thiago and his dad got into a big fight and he cut him off. however, his mom still to this day sends him an allowance every month.

he moved to new york six months ago and got a part time job at highlands as a caddy four months ago. surprisingly, he’s been able to keep it. 

03. headcanons

he’s an experienced golfer. used to go and golf with his dad every weekend which is why the job as a caddy seems to suit him perfectly.

thiago can play the piano and before he was training to become a classic pianist but that stopped when he turned 13 and now he only plays as a party trick.

probably has read 3 books in his life and he hates subtitles in movies

lives in a one bedroom apartment in brooklyn which is way too expensive for what it is

he once got arrested in ibiza

thiago is extremely afraid of cats. his grandmother had a cat when he was younger who scratched him and left a mark on the right side of his forehead. since then he’s terrified of cats.

04. personality

okay i suck at writing personalities so have this poor bullet list

not the smartest but hey at least he’s cute 

very flirty like sometimes i wonder “boy, do you even have some general knowledge?” probably nope

simple-minded, like anything too deep and complex will just make his last two brain cells collapse. 

has really good people skills which is why he gets very good tips.

allergic to plans. pretty much the human embodiment of yolo 

doesn’t care about following the rules, nothing can come between him and his self-indulgence

it’s hard to really form a deep bond with him but if you get through the layers, he is a loyal friend.

05. wanted connections

HERE.

[puckmeupfam]

Consigliere | Kevin Hayes

Word Count: 3175 Note: The Mafia!Kevin Hayes AU that no one asked for. I’ve never seen the Godfather or any mob movies. It’s more lighthearted than it sounds, I swear. Brief mentions of past violence and mafia stuff so please don’t read if that will affect you.

Okay, so Kevin Hayes is kind of a screw-up. His father, Frank, had been mob boss ever since his father before him had died. And he was good at it. He knew when deals were being done. He knew when someone was thinking about snitching. He knew how to handle his allies. He knew how much money it took to get in the police chief’s blind spot. The Hayes family had been leading the mob before Prohibition even began which meant that Kevin had a heavy-weight on his shoulders ever since he could remember. Kevin was just four years old when his father started bringing him along to inner circle meetings. It was in the basement of a restaurant that seemed to always be closed at random times yet somehow still in business. The lights were low and cast large, ghostly shadows on the wall. The point was to get him to start seeing the guys as family. To see how his father commanded the room with his booming voice and wide shoulders. His father would speak confidently with a cigar placed casually in his mouth while the guys studiously listened. They knew to obey him because he had a habit of being… harsh. Kevin’s father wouldn’t take anyone’s shit. Kevin was in the fourth grade when he went along on his first “check-in” to one of the mobsters who wanted out. The guy was pretty high up in the hierarchy which made Kevin’s dad want to make the trip himself. There was nothing he hated more than a buddy who cried about wanting to stop for his “wife and newborn daughter,” to Kevin’s dad you were either in or six feet under.

Which is why it was always a bit of a sore spot that his heir was Kevin. Kevin whose voice was loud in an obnoxious way rather than a threatening way. Kevin who would much rather play street hockey than take a guy out in the street. Kevin who asked if he could “just have one of your fries” while his father was presenting his game plan. Kevin who tried to sneak his Nintendo on a stakeout. 

Kevin’s mother, Jeannie, and his father had a significant age difference. When he was born his mom was twenty-six while his father was forty-one. Most women involved within the mob didn’t even have a high school diploma, but his mom was just three semesters short of a bachelor’s degree. Her father, Al Rogers, was a made man and an advisor to the boss. Frank had too much power to have friends, but he protected his mafia as if they were his own brothers. Which is why when a lower gang showed up at the Rogers home one fateful night as a very aggressive hint to Frank, he brought Jeannie back from college and hid her in his house until he could make the other gang scarce. Call it love or call it Stockholm Syndrome, but Frank and Jeannie got married just two years later. Kevin was born first and was followed by three younger sisters. Leaving Frank with no other choices but Kevin.

But it was when Frank Hayes died suddenly of a heart attack that Kevin’s life was officially fucked. He was now the leader, the boss, the king and that meant something to these people. It meant that he had to step his shit up which was a lot harder said than done. At his first meeting since his father’s death, he sat with his eyes glazed over for about forty-five minutes before someone jolted him out of his thoughts. “Sir, are you going to give your speech now,” a man he only knew as Buddy asked him in hushed tones. Kevin stood, drawing everyone’s attention. When the boss speaks you listen.

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin began, “um, go kill those guys I guess.”

This was… not the right thing to say. He was met with wide, dumbfounded eyes. Kevin honestly couldn’t tell you who he just told everyone to kill and he definitely wasn’t using the imposing form or gruff vocabulary that his father had. 

Kevin honestly felt hopeless about his life and his new position. Until he met you. He was sitting in a bar that he knew no mafia members would go to. He ordered a piña colada, he had one once at a luau-themed high school party. His father was away on a mission leaving him with just his mother and the two mob members guarding his house to sneak past. In all likelihood, the security knew he was going probably even followed him to the party. But the point was that he got to enjoy himself. Got to wear a trashy Hawaiian shirt. Got to do a keg stand. Got to be a trashy kid instead of a mafia prince. And that’s where you came in. 

You had gone with your friends for a night out, you were wearing shorts and a sparkly sequined shirt with black boots. It was entirely inappropriate for the Boston weather, but that didn’t stop you from drinking tequila shots and dancing in the middle of what seemed to be one of the quietest bars in the city. Your friends had left already, but you weren’t ready to go home. You always claimed that you weren’t a fan of going out and would much rather stay home, but once you got out of the house you couldn’t turn yourself off as easily as they could. Which left you alone sipping a vodka tonic at the bar while lip-synching to the song playing overhead. 

The floor was sticky with spilled beer and the vinyl of the booths were tearing, leaving the foam and stuffing inside exposed. There happened to be a female bartender there tonight which allowed you to chat and laugh openly without worrying about giving the wrong signals. Kevin quickly spotted you across the room. With the bar being sparsely filled with drunks it wasn’t hard to miss you. But for Kevin is felt like a bit more than that. Like there was a ring of light surrounding you. Like a magnet pulling his gaze. Your mouth was wide in an uninhibited laugh, your sparkly pink lipgloss was smeared a bit, and you had a twinkle in your eyes. A sign of joy and happiness that Kevin envied. 

There were some calls from a corner booth of inebriated men which lead the bartender to give you a reluctant smile before going to bring them more pitchers. Now, bored without stimuli, you spun your barstool around. That was when you spotted him staring at you. He looked sad and oafish and non-threatening with his head in his hand and his fruity drink at his side, twirling the little umbrella between his fingers. You felt pity and curiosity when you saw him and walked to his table as if a magnet were pulling your belly. 

You sat on the other chair at his table without waiting for an acknowledgment or invitation. His back straightened as he gawked at you. 

“I’m (Y/N),” you said reaching your hand out. He absently noted that you had a strong handshake as his hand flopped in yours. “Kevin,” he hollowly responded. “Kevin,” you repeated back to him with a smile, “what’s got you so down in the dumps?” It took him a second to realize two things 1.) he was just kind of staring at you without actually speaking like a normal human person and 2.) his hand was still robotically shaking yours even though you had stopped squeezing. “Oh, just troubles with…” he hesitated, he knew all the codewords that everyone else used, but for some reason none of them really made sense. “Work,” Kevin finally said. You hummed in response. 

“What do you do,” you asked.

“What?”

“What do you do?” you repeated.

“I- I work in, like, the family business, I guess… taking over from my dad,” that made as much sense as anything else to him and it wasn’t technically a lie. But it made you smirk and lean back a little. 

“That’s very one percent of you,” was your response. Kevin barked out a laugh. “I mean, it’s more shitty than fancy but I get what you mean,” he told you with a chuckle and shake of his head. Kevin wasn’t entirely sure how much money the mafia brought in for profit. They had to live under the radar to avoid suspicious so his house was never very grande. A lot of the money went as bribes, but there was surely some kind of underground stash. 

“What do you do,” Kevin asked you once he snapped himself out of his thoughts. He came here to wallow, but focusing on his fucking mob when there was a gorgeous girl sitting right in front of him was a different level of buffoonery. His question elicited a very tired sigh from you that Kevin felt in his bones. “I’m in fucking law school,” you said as if it was stricken upon you rather than something that you chose for yourself. It was Kevin’s turn to lean back from the table and he observed you with wide eyes, impressed. He knew that even if he weren’t an actual mob boss, he wasn’t the type of person to have a big fancy office with framed degrees on the wall. 

“Yeah…” you trailed off in response to his shocked face. Kevin didn’t respond and you had a habit of uncontrollably filling the silence. “I interned on a political campaign as an underclassman and I just realized that I wanted to, like, make the world a better place which is so cheesy, I know. And to do stuff like that… you know, stuff that actually matters and changes peoples and even attempt to make everything less terrible you have to-” he cut you off by lunging across the table and slamming your lips together. 

You made a surprised sound but quickly leaned into the kiss. He was warm and his lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted like fruity cocktails. It felt like warming your body by the fireplace on a snowy night.  While it wasn’t a habit of yours to make out with strangers, there was just something about this guy that made you an absolute fool. After what could have been ten seconds or ten minutes he pulled away. You were left hazy and stunned while he looked at you apologetically. 

“I’m sorry about that,” he said quietly, avoiding your eyes.

“I’m not,” you replied without hesitation. Kevin’s eyes flickered back to yours. To show him that you were serious you reached across the table and grabbed his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers with his larger ones. Your mischievous grin grows once his bright smile begins.

The two of you talk until the bar shuts down. Not about anything in particular. Just movies he likes and the asshole in your Philosophy of Law class who always tries to correct you. When the two of you stumble out, not drunk just dizzy on the night. He reluctantly starts to say goodbye to you when you stop him.

“Not so fast,” you start with a toothy smile. Kevin’s eyebrow quirks in a silent question. “I have coffee at my apartment,” you tell him. This brings the grin back to his face so you tangle your fingers together over the gloves you haphazardly shoved onto your hands. Kevin came with a coat, a wallet, and nothing else while you brought gloves, a hat, a scarf, and your heavy winter coat to cover your outfit that had zero protection against the chill. 

The two of you are mostly silent as you trek to your building. It was about a ten-minute walk and it hadn’t occurred to either of you that there were options other than walking. Kevin held the door open for you and you felt warmer as soon as you stepped into the lobby. You pushed the buttons on the elevator to bring you both to your apartment. This was another thing that you didn’t do often. Even though you didn’t plan to have sex tonight, it was almost dawn. Inviting some guy you just met into your apartment in the middle of the night went against everything Law & Order SVU had taught you.

You told Kevin to make himself at home while you got the mugs of steaming coffee ready. He noticed that your apartment, while small, was homey with framed pictures of your friends and your graduation. There were scented candles on the shelf and flowers on the table. You came back to sit next to him on the couch, handing him his drink. Your boots were unzipped but you were too lazy to take them all the way off. 

“I can’t do this,” he announced suddenly standing up with a panicked expression. Your eyes bugged and your coffee splashed a bit with his sudden movement. “What,” you asked, confused. “I’m not fucking like you, (Y/N),” he said with a dramatic wave of his arms. “You’re actually a good fucking person and you have your shit together and you’ve accomplished things,” when he said this you stood and moved to hold him in place. “No, no, no, Kev, you’re amazing and I don’t have it all together. I mean, I have like tons of student loans and the other day all I had to eat were Doritos,” you were trying to calm him down, taking deep breaths hoping that he would follow your lead.

This only seemed to agitate him more. “Shit, (Y/N), I’m in the mob,” he finally said. This made you still. “Exactly,” he said and moved to grab his coat from the back of a chair. “No, don’t go,” you whimpered, suddenly jumping to follow him. “I just told you that I’m in the mob! Kick me out of your house, call the cops, don’t be an idiot,” he snapped. He knew he was being self-destructive, but he also knew that doing anything else was stupid. And the prospect of being killed or captured by the police didn’t scare him at this point. He was living through hell every day. Okay, he was a little bit scared of what kind of weird mob torture might come over him, but he couldn’t live like this anymore. Kevin knew he would be unhappy until he died so why not speed up the process. Maybe he would even turn himself in and just get it over with.

“Just sit for a sec, hold on,” you told him. While he didn’t sit as you asked, he did stop moving. “What do you mean,” you asked stupidly. Kevin groaned in response. “What it means is that my dad died and now I am the boss of a mafia. A mafia! And I’m shit at it and I hate it and my dad knew that I hated it, but this is just how it works because it’s the mob,” he said gesticulating wildly. 

“But why did you tell me? I’m not a real lawyer yet or anything,” you responded calmly, but with a questioning tone. “I’m telling you because I fooled myself into thinking I was a nobody for the evening and I can’t do that to you,” Kevin responded. Your mind was going a mile a minute trying to understand everything he was telling you. “Wait… you hate it,” you asked, picking that statement over everything else.

“Of course I hate it, do I look like someone who would want to be a mob boss? I’m not even a little bit hardcore,” he said, “I can’t even get my blood drawn at the doctor’s office.” This made you giggle which lightened the mood a bit. 

“So this is like a High School Musical situation,” you guessed. He looked back at you dumbly, obviously the connection between the mafia and a children’s movie didn’t make much sense to him. “Yeah, like, your dad pushed you to take on this whole operation,” you explain, “and then you’re like “no dad that’s your dream, not mine.”” You used an overly exaggerated voice to be Kevin and you weren’t sure if it was that or the analogy, but both of you erupted into laughter. This went on for a minute before you sobered and brought yourself back to reality. You had to figure this out, you had to decide what the two of you were doing.

“Are you asking me to get you out,” you asked in a whisper. He sighed and looked at his feet. “There is no way out for me, (Y/N), I either end up dead or in prison,” he confessed. You moved your hand to bring his chin up to make eye contact. “And I know it will be one of those two because I’m not good enough to keep everything afloat,” he finished. 

“Well you should have said something, this could actually be a fun project for me,” you said with a tiny grin.

“Don’t be an idiot,” he started. You abruptly slapped him. “What the fuck was that for,” he shouted, clutching his cheek. You hadn’t hit him that hard, but it came as a major surprise for him.

“First of all, don’t call me an idiot,” you commanded, “and second, I’m studying to work in politics so don’t act like it’s not something I could help with.” He looked at you dumbly as you grinned. What kind of future-lawyer-slash-political-mastermind would you be if you couldn’t hold your own? From the beginning, you were aware that you had the ability to command a room. You had always demanded everyone’s focus and attention. It was easy for you to act naive and charming and then make a complete one-eighty and start telling people exactly what you wanted them to do. You were always branded as “manipulative” or “domineering,” and you were well aware that your personality in someone like Kevin would be unstoppable. 

“Not to mention, I want to be a campaign manager so it might be good practice to puppeteer an idiot into an icon,” you looked devilish. It was an inescapable fact that this experience could allow you to be the most you that you’d ever been. Calculating and alluring and full of moxie. Kevin knew he should be offended by your honesty and crassness. But there was something about you, something about this night, that made everything coming out of your mouth sound completely rational.

“You know, in the mafia we would call that a consigliere,” he told you, reaching to extend his hand. His voice was raspy and his chin scruffy, though you were aware that you very likely had eyeliner and mascara under your eyes and a rats nest on your head. But you shook his hand. You shook his hand because you felt sympathy for his. You shook because there was just something about Kevin Hayes that intoxicated you. You shook it knowing that this whirlwind night was just the beginning.

[motleycrueroadie]

Along for the Ride (pt.5)

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone that is reading this! I apologize if the pace of this is slow, now that I have my character established I’ll be moving through the scenes. This is Mick’s audition and the next one will include meeting Vince and so on!

Previous Chapters: One I Two I Three I Four

Over the course of my life, I think it’s safe to say that I have become fairly acquainted to fresh starts.

Leaving Deanna 

Moving from one end of the West Coast to the other

Changing my name to Nikki Sixx ( leaving Frank Carlton Serafina Feranna Jr. behind)

And now, leaving London for another fresh start.

 In the time that I’ve been alive, I have learned the quick and harsh lesson that you are the only person you can count on, so whether I want to have 0 or 40 fresh starts, that’s up to me. I’m not saying these are always going to work out in my favour, or that I am always going to make the right decision - quite frankly I make stupid ass decisions mostly - but I am the only person that I can truly count on. 

Do I regret leaving London? No. Do I regret the way I left them? Absolutely fucking not. However, am I feeling a little pessimistic about this band, considering that it consists of a drummer I met at a diner and some guitar player he’s dragging along? You can bet your fucking ass I am. 

Sometimes a fresh start begins with a blind shot in the dark and that is what I was doing right now. Last Friday, I met Tommy in a diner and today, the following Sunday, I’m waiting to see whether this is beginning on a good or bad note. I mean, fuck, I haven’t even heard Tommy play, he could be dog shit for all I know, but I trusted him. The kid must know his way around a set of drums, the way he was spinning those stupid fucking sticks around his fingers. 

The funny thing about quitting a band is that you have a lot more free time on your hands. Since I didn’t really have much else to do during this week, I figured I could bug Janis, and she didn’t seem to mind. Our routine remained intact. When I got off work, I waited for her to be done with her run before coming over for dinner. One of the only things that changed was how much time I spent at her place. She started letting me come over while she was in the shower, after I complained that I had nothing to do while I waited. Of course, everything Janis allowed me to do came with a price she told me. Janis explained to me the other night that because she was no “Mother Teresa” as she put it, that I would need to start earning my keep if I was going to be eating her food. We both knew she was joking, but I couldn’t let her joking go without consequence. The shades of red she blushed when I offered to do some of her chores while she showered and got dinner ready were well worth the work I put in. Janis gave me a quite modest list: water the houseplants and vacuum any dirt off the carpet that I got on the floor while I watered them. The chore itself never took me more than 20 minutes, which left enough time for me to be nosy. Somehow, Janis managed to fill every square inch of the apartment with something, all without making the place seem cluttered. She had knick-knacks and photos lining the wall and she also had this large bookcase in her living room that held all sorts of things. The radio and a cassette collection occupied the first shelf, board games on the second and on the bottom were a couple thick photo books alongside her high school yearbooks. I knew Janis was a runner from past conversations, but I had no idea she was a state champion. In fact, Janis seemed to have been the whole package in her high school days. She was a state champion runner, graduated with honors according to her diploma and had great grades but yet I didn’t see a college degree on her wall. I hadn’t brought this up yet, but I want to ask her about these books soon - she doesn’t know I’ve been through them though so I figured it could wait. 

The clock on the stove reads 3:45 when I hear a lot of noise outside my apartment. Rolling my eyes I headed towards the door, only to open it to see Tommy and his buddy Greg carrying equipment up the stairs. 

“Didn’t I tell you guys to come here at 4?” Despite the fact that it’s often polite to be early, I had told these guys to show up no earlier than 4 for our first practice because I didn’t want to disturb Janis while she slept. 

“Dude, it’s going to take me a bit to set this shit up, if we want to get started at 4 I should’ve been here earlier” Tommy grunted back intermittently, while trying to help Greg carry an amp up the stairs.Either I hadn’t made myself clear on the phone or Tommy doesn’t listen. Tommy was doing more of the heavy lifting than Greg by the looks of it, which wasn’t a good sign to me. 

“You the minivan?” I asked him, my way of offering help. He nodded to me while steering towards the door. As I went down the stairs, I glanced back up at Janis’s apartment to see if the noise had woken her up. I know it’s only 15 minutes of sleep but 15 minutes is a pretty big deal. To my surprise, she was leaning against the railing on the balcony. 

“Think you could come down here and help us out Joplin?” I call out to her, squinting up against the sun to see her in her pajamas and fuzzed out hair. 

“You boys look like you’re doing just fine!” She said, motioning with her hand for me to continue what I was doing. I hadn’t noticed Tommy walking down the stairs until he was beside me. 

“Isn’t that the waitress from the diner?” He asked me as we continued down the stairs to the minivan. 

“You tell me.” I smirked at him, knowing full well he remembered who she was. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I turned around to find her still there.

“Can we postpone dinner until after practice?” I yell up to her. 

“Only if you play Barracuda as your last song.” She replied. I furrowed my brow, confused at the request.

“Why?” Tommy was the one to reply for me. 

“I like it.” She said, and I laughed at how matter of fact she stated this. “Plus it tells me when you’re done. Food will be hot half an hour after the opening chords.” Flashing a thumbs up back at her I turned around to continue what we were doing. 

“Do we get food too?” This came from Greg. 

“No.” I quickly replied, even though I knew Janis would feed them. I just didn’t want them there. 

We started practicing around half past 4, and finished at half past 8. In the four hours that we had spent in my apartment, I had shown Tommy and Greg a couple of songs and tried to get to know them. All I had learned was that Tommy and Greg were both in a band called “Suite 19” before this and that Greg couldn’t play the way I wanted him to. At 8:25, I had told them to start playing Barracuda because I was getting hungry and my patience was wearing thin. Heading up the stairs towards Janis’s apartment, I felt relieved to know I would be in her presence for the next little bit. Before rounding the corner I could hear Janis, not the girl that lived above me, but Janis Joplin singing Me and My Bobby McGee. Pushing open the door, I reached up to catch the bell before it could ring so as to not alert Janis that I was in the apartment. She was standing at the stove, swaying back and forth while lightly singing along to the song - just faint enough that you almost couldn’t hear her if you weren’t paying attention. Leaning against the door, I tried to keep as quiet as possible just to watch her. Suddenly, she stopped swaying and I thought my cover had been blown. 

“It’s been 30 minutes, I wonder what he’s up to?” She was thinking out loud. 

“He’s waiting to see if you notice that he’s in the apartment.” She whipped around, visibly surprised. 

“Sixx!” she practically yelled, clutching a hand to her chest. I could only laugh, and the stunned look she held on her face quickly faded into a laugh. That was one of the things that I enjoyed most about Janis’s company, she was never one to dwell when she was in a bad mood. She ebbed and flowed with the mood of the conversation. “I’m surprised you could be that silent, considering all the ruckus you’ve been making for the past four hours.” Crossing her arms, she leaned against the counter top while being careful not to disturb the pan on the stove. 

“By ruckus, do you mean a bass player and a drummer that know what they’re doing while the guitar player doesn’t?” 

“I suppose so.” She turned back to the stove, turning it off and bringing the pan over to the opposite counter to pour what looked to be meat into two bowls with fixings. She caught me watching her do this and must have noticed the confused look on my face, “We’re having taco salad Nikki. You’ll like it.” Reaching into the fridge, she grabbed a bottle of dressing and drizzled it across the two bowls before handing one to me. 

“So tell me, if this guitar player -” she motioned with her hand to indicate she didn’t know his name as she reached into a drawer for utensils.

“Greg”

“If Greg isn’t what you’re looking for, then why haven’t you called that guy from the newspaper ad?”

She was referring to an ad that I had shown her from the newspaper. Someone who described themselves as a “loud, rude and aggressive guitar player” had caught my eye. They listed a phone number, but after Tommy had mentioned Greg, I hadn’t thought to give them a call. 

“Well you see, Greg is a friend of Tommy’s from his old band” I figured I would cut the story off there and she would pick up on the rest. She snickered to herself. 

“You’re telling me that the man with jet black hair and a name like ‘Nikki Sixx’ is afraid to hurt Greg and Tommy’s feelings?” She motioned a tear running down her cheek while pouting and I scoffed at her. “Does Tommy know that Greg doesn’t fit your vibe?” She questioned, returning to her food. 

“He won’t say it cause Greg is there but yeah.” I said honestly, between bites. She nodded while continuing to chew on her food. 

“I didn’t hear a whole lot of singing going on down there tonight.” She looked over  at me expectantly, though I’m not quite sure what response it is she was looking for. “So it has been a little over a week, you’ve got a drummer you like and a guitar player you’re not so sure of and zero singer….” 

“Get to your point here Janis Jade Smith.” She laughed at how I had used her full name.

“Point is, when will I be attending this show of yours?” she was smirking but trying to hide it. Flipping her off, she laughed and we continued eating with one another in a comfortable silence.

Another week had passed since Tommy and Greg had arrived at my apartment, and things were  no better. I have little patience to begin with, but I had used it all on trying to teach Greg the way I wanted him to play. Sick of listening to me complain about the man, Janis told me that if I wasn’t going to pull the trigger and call the guy from the newspaper ad then she would. Before I had the time to process what was going on, Janis had left the apartment during the middle of dinner and returned 15 minutes later only to say “Sunday. He will be here at 4:00 pm sharp. If you like him, you tell Greg to hit the road.” So today, I was standing out on the balcony with Tommy letting him know the deal with this guy coming to audition. The faint sound of a bell caught my attention, knowing it was just before 4:00 I guessed that Janis woke up early. 

“That you up there Janis?” I called out, Tommy leaned over the railing to look up at the next floor. 

“Just came out to make sure that he shows up.” Answered my question.

“Listen man, how are we going to tell Greg to leave if we like this guy?” Tommy asked me as he moved his weight between each of his legs. If there was one thing I learned about Tommy in the short time since I had met him, it was that he had enough energy for the both of us. I could only guess that he’ll be a good partner in crime once the drinks are flowing. I shrugged my shoulders while smirking at him. 

“Act like you’re serving him a shot.” I heard a snicker above me as Tommy initially looked confused but then realized what I was getting at. 

“Give it to him straight..” Tommy mumbled under his breath as we watched a red car pull up in front of the apartment building. 

“Right on time!” Janis called out from above us. “Bring whoever is still around at 6:00 up for some dinner!” Sticking out a thumb over the railing, I heard Janis go back into her apartment as Tommy went down the stairs to help out the ad man with his equipment. I liked the looks of him, he almost resembled a slightly older version of me. 

By the time 6:00 rolled around, everyone was ready for a bit of a break. The guitarist that we kept was the man I came to know as Mick Mars, and we gave Greg the news as straight as it could be. If his ability to take news is anything like his drinking skills, I would say that he prefers mixed drinks. 

“Mick, my upstairs neighbour has offered to feed us dinner. You down for a break?” I asked him, knowing that Tommy already heard the offer.

“Why is your neighbour offering to feed us? I sure hope you aren’t taking charity because I don’t”

I know this apartment looks like a dump, but I’m not a charity case. 

“Janis and I have dinner together all the time. I’m not taking charity, I’m taking a free meal from a friend who is offering.” He appeared skeptical of my explanation. Glancing between the two of them, Tommy looked impatient. 

“I’m just hungry so do you think we can go?” Tommy asked. Motioning for the door, I began to walk out and up the stairs to Janis’s apartment. The three of us were rounding the corner to the landing where Crazy Train could be heard from her slightly ajar door. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see Mick and Tommy looking almost intrigued at this. Opening the door to the apartment, the usual bell alerted Janis to our arrival and she turned around with a pan in her hand. 

“Lasagna, salad and garlic bread tonight!” She exclaimed excitedly as she placed the baking sheet on the stove top. 

“It smells good Janis!” Tommy said as he bounded towards the kitchen, as he entered Janis handed him a plate and pointed towards the oven so he could grab himself garlic bread. 

“You must be the man from the ad that I talked to on the phone the other day.” She addressed Mick, who looked to be almost confused by the whole situation. Janis walked towards him from the kitchen with her hand extended, coming in to shake Mick’s hand. He returned the gesture and shook Janis’s hand. 

“Mick Mars.” 

“Loud, rude and aggressive guitar player. It’s nice to meet you. Janis Smith.” She began walking back into the kitchen, motioning for us to follow. We were each handed a plate and utensils while being told that we could grab a slice of garlic bread. Tommy had already planted himself on the couch in the living room, making himself at home.

“Anyone want something to drink?” She asked as Mick and I made our way to the couch in the living room. I noticed that there wasn’t going to be room on the couch for Janis, so I remained standing. Coming out from her bedroom, Janis dragged out a beanbag chair and placed it in front of the coffee table. I went to sit down on the chair when I was interrupted, “Sit on the couch Sixx, that’s mine.”

“Beer?” Tommy called out.

“One for everyone?” 

A collective yes was mumbled and Janis returned with 3 beers in one hand and her plate in the other. 

“Y’all sounded much better today. It was nice to finally hear those songs played correctly after listening to that sad sap try and keep up pace for the last week.” Now that Greg was gone, I think that Janis had given up putting on a good attitude about him. 

“We will sound even better once we have a singer.” Tommy replied, which started me on my train of thought. 

“Someone along the lines of David Lee Roth and Bowie!”

“So we want a skinny blonder fucker with moves?” Mick asked and I nodded, he was on the same train of thought. Sparing a quick glance over at Janis, she was eating quietly while watching the conversation. 

“I think I know who could be our guy!” Tommy exclaimed. 

Next Chapter

[prxst-n]

           TASK NUMBER EIGHT: high school experiences !!

preston didn’t particularly like these. going back to the past and reliving what he went through. it made his chest knot up and the back of his neck start to ache. some memories even brought the sweat to collect at his palms. but he wasn’t a coward. he... would sit through this and you know what? he was going to be honest, maybe it would be good for him to go back to new york. with a sigh he looked down at the paper, the heart in his chest slowly building as he started off reading. boy this was going to be a wild trip and he wasn’t going to like it. 

trigger warnings below: car accident, suicide mention 

let’s start with the simple stuff first. what classes did you take in high school? which ones were you most and least excited for? did you have a favorite teacher that made the days more enjoyable? 

“basic classes. you know the core classes. english was alright, i really didn’t mind some of the books we had to read, i liked a few of them actually but why the fuck did they have to assign us dome reports all the time? like it really made the books just seem shitty. who cares about picking out every damn part of a character? or the colors used? can’t we just be happy reading a damn book about a guy creating life? that is fucking cool! but noooo, we needed to pick and prod about what the lightning hitting the tree really meant on frankenstein's life.” preston rolled his eyes, he remembered how much he’d complain and just have the teachers tell him to just do as he was told. other then that? no other class really stuck for me, psychology was kinda cool but other then that class was fucking boring. i slept in some classes, skipped others, for the most part i just avoided my teachers. they didn’t want anything to do with me anyway.”

and now, outside of the classroom. did you participate in any extracurricular activities like sports, band, or other clubs? were you apart of the prom planning committee or did your parent always sign up to chaperone field trips? or did you bolt home or to work at the end of the day?

“no... i couldn’t participate in school sports. he hated that, the idea of people actually looking up to me. don’t get me wrong, i wanted to do football, i was big, i was fucking good at football. but he made sure i never joined the team. whatever. i found something better. fighting. it’s not a school activity of course but it was also something he couldn’t stop me from doing. i wasn’t into clubs eiter, they were lame as fuck. but i would work, part time. when i wasn’t working to help my mom or hanging out with my friends. i really tried to stay outta the house as much as i could and with the extra cash i was making serving at some chinese place. i’d go to work and not go home, instead i would fight, stay out late and train until my arms hurt so bad i couldn’t move. it made me feel good when all i wanted to do was lash out.” 

a night to remember. did you go to prom? if so, did you have a date or fly solo, and was it a good time where you danced all night, and what were you wearing? if not, did you have an ‘anti-prom’ party, or why else did you decide not to go? what about other school dances or pep rallies?

“more like a night forgotten if you know what i mean. yeah, i went to prom. it wasn’t anything i really wanted to do to be honest. my girlfriend at the time was flipping her shit though. she made me ask her in front of all our friends... wear a stupid fucking gold tie that i ended up burning in the middle of the dance room just to watch our dean flip his shit and stomp it out. she was pissed as fuck but somehow she thought it was hot and we ended up sneaking to the bathroom and well... need i say more?” he chuckled. preston was just as easy to get his pants off as he was now. 

“you want to know a night to remember? senior pranks. we took it hard as fuck. we broke into the rival schools main offices and stole the statue of their mascot, pretty sure it was a bear. but this statue was fucking huge. then we glued a huge dildo in its mouth, put that thing in the back of a friend’s truck and set it up in our principle’s office. he wasn’t happy. we did smaller shit around school but that was out big prank. opening the award case and filling the thing full of old porno dvds and playboy magazines.” 

some more of the hard hitting q’s. who did you sit with at lunch? did you keep the lock off your locker or decorate it? were your headphones always snaked through your sneeve? was cutting class a normal occurrence or would you never dare? did you ever get detention?

“is this that mean girls movie or some shit? i sat with those friends my mother told me not to sit with, the trouble makers who would start shit with the jocks just because we could. i didn’t care much about school obviously so yeah, finding that spot behind the back stairwell, under the ceramics room where we would smoke cigarettes and pass around cheap vodka in a sprite bottle. it was just a routine. i actually didn’t get caught doing anything too bad, luckily but i had been in detention a few times, for sure. my school didn’t even have lockers, they had tried to push back giving everyone books and stuck to using class sets and removed them my sophomore year.” 

“im not going to sit here and say i was some stereotypical bad ass. but i just really wasn’t good at school but it was better than being at home, i had friends at least and it was a place i could go to have fun when we made it that way. i fucked up my time in school, guess that was my problem.”  

upward and onward. what did you want to be when you were sixteen? was there a career path in mind, a certain college, another route worth taking? were you excited to see your high school in the rearview mirror or was moving on bittersweet?  if you graduated, was it scary or exciting or a mix of both? did you end up where your younger self expected you to? 

“no. i didn’t have a path. i was beaten off of it every night of my fucking life.” preston’s hands clenched. “i wasn’t allowed to have a path. i was told i was not going to do anything but carry out what my mother did. the day my diploma was handed to me i sat on the curb on the front steps of my school and cried. i did. preston chao fucking cried. not of happiness, not because he knew he was getting ready to start something bigger. he cried because he realized that from that point on he had nothing going for him. he... i was nothing from that point on. i would continue to be a stain of a family name, a boy that was afraid to look his father in the eye. i cried because i had no idea where i was going or if i even wanted to make it though the night.” 

“then, i stood up. wiped the tears off my face and went to whatever fucking party i could get the most booze. that was the night i got so wasted and ended up crashing some random fuck’s car that i stole from a party. i never told a soul what i was trying to do that night. my friends just laughed it off as crazy preston shit, my mother cried next to me in bed happy that i was still alive, my father secretly paid for the damages. but that night... i didn’t want to make it.” 

and last but not least. if you could tell your younger self one thing - what would it be?

“fuck. and there it is. that one thing i have been avoiding for...a long time. you know what i would say? i would look myself in the damn eyes and tell myself to stop being a fucking coward. no one wants to hear it but it’s what you are and always have been. you held yourself back for years and all because of one asshole who you think holds you back and is the reason you can’t do shit with your life. well, fuck him. fuck bruce langston and his words that are holding you back. you’re fucking good at football. join the team, you wanted to join art and submit that portrait and you didn’t. listen here you little shit. let yourself be in the spotlight. do it and change everything you think you can’t do because im now learning how wrong i was for being afraid of him. you are bigger than he ever will be.” 

[hecktic-creations]

Growing Pains

Intro

I at first wasn’t going to do anything for Pride Month this year. I haven’t been in the best mental space and couldn’t think of a topic of discussion. But in an effort to figure myself out and reconnect with me, I have been writing an essay in my head. I’ve been referring to it as Growing Pains, so I suppose that ended up being the title. This essay I owe more to myself than anyone else, but I wanted to share it too, to give others a new perspective on things. I have been seeing more and more people excluding acespec people from LGBTQ spaces saying that they aren’t oppressed so they shouldn’t count. As someone who’s identified as Asexual but never really felt comfortable bringing it up, since whenever I did people told me I was lying or I would grow out of it, this feels like an attack from a community that I thought supported me. Most of my posts are on my trans identity, and this is because I feel more comfortable talking about it. I still hold a grudge against myself for being ace, because I’ve only ever been told that life isn’t truly complete without a significant other. I’m done ignoring this part of my identity though, as it has been such a key part of my being for such a long time. While discovering my relationship with gender has helped me feel more whole, it hasn’t been until more recently. I have been fighting a battle with myself my whole life about being ace, it wasn’t until I looked back that I realised this though. So that’s what this is, me finally coming to terms with my ace identity in coalition to a past I only vaguely remember.

Growing Pains

My younger years weren’t easy for me. All the situations and all the circumstances of my life, logically have been fine. Quiet, maybe. But for me, they have been hurdles. Each and every action. I describe a day by how much “effort” I have. There are good days with plenty and bad days where I have none. If I’ve run out of effort, I won’t be able to do much more that day. It’s always been like this but I’ve mostly ignored it, not a good idea. Because of this, I didn’t do much outside of school with anyone as it was “too much effort” in the way that I couldn’t bring myself to get over the hurdle and into the action. If something required more than a few steps I simply couldn’t do it. But there weren’t many people to do extracurricular activities with anyways. I never felt like I belonged to a group, more an outsider allowed to interact because everyone else was too polite to say anything. As a result I’ve never really allowed myself to get close to anyone, expecting them to one day betray me, or simply move on and leave me behind. Maybe we can blame my inability to connect, my personality, my being queer but not knowing it, the people around me. All of this, none of this. Doesn’t matter in the end. Most of my younger personality felt like a lie I had constructed to be able to interact with my peers. Elementary school I had to make up crushes I’d never felt before. Middle school I had to try and feel excited about a future I never really expected to come. Every interaction felt like perpetuating the lie, until it became my truth. I‘ve never had much in the way of romantic experiences. There was a boy in fifth grade who asked me out when I was in third, I was uncomfortable with the thought of dating --let alone someone So Much Older than me-- so refused. He thought it was because I hated him. I told him it wasn’t but he didn’t speak to me again. Later that year he got expelled for stealing money from the book fair so maybe that was for the best. Depending on you definition of it, my first kiss was a surprise to both me and the kid who kissed me. I was leaving an event with my family, but had walked too far ahead. I stopped by the edge of the sidewalk to wait for them and a boy I had spoken with on several occasions but we never really interacted was walking by with his mother. I think it was his idea of a greeting, but he kissed me and moved on. His mom told him not to kiss people like that, he said he was just being nice.  Beyond that, I haven’t kissed anyone. Nor do I plan to. I remember someone telling me that once I kissed someone for real I would understand how good it felt and would want to do it again. But I just don’t see the appeal. Maybe I gave off a vibe of not wanting to, but after elementary, no one asked me out during school. Indeed the next time anyone would was outfront of the liquor store I worked at last year. He quickly dropped it when I said I was trans. I am glad no one ever did because I think the sheer shock of it would have done me in. I’d never seen myself as good enough to date in the first place. I was never bullied, more like ignored entirely. Which was perfectly fine by me then, but looking back it was lonely. There were close friends through it all, and I think I owe it to them that I made it this far. Not gonna name any names, but I hope you know who you are. It’s hard for me to remember my childhood. Really, anything past a year ago is hazy at best. It’s not a poor memory exactly because I’ve proven to have a good one, it’s more. There wasn’t enough good to remember so my brain decided throw all of it out. If I can recall, it feels like a story I’ve read. Something to think about, but not my own experience. It’s not me. I can’t connect. 

High school is different. Newer in my mind, and more intact. More friends, more experiences. Really it’s where I as a person began. It’s where I learned the words that described me, learned that other people like me were real. I wasn’t just broken. It’s where I started to sluff of the lies from my youth. As a defense, I’d shut down my connection to my emotions. I remember clearly the last time I fully felt anything. I was seven. I was angry about something petty, I got scared of my own anger. Promised I wouldn’t get that mad again, guess that was true. I always thought that my inability to think of anyone else romanticly was because of that detachment from myself, and would not be surprised if it played a part. But in an unofficial poll of the one queer table at my high school Freshman or Sophomore year, I accidentally identified myself as asexual, at the time I didn’t even know what it meant, and I don’t know why I did it. Later I looked it up, found out the definition, and everything felt right. It made sense. I cried with relief because I belonged somewhere. I was real. When I found out that Asexuality was an identity, I connected with it immediately. This had been my whole life. All of the awkward dodging of strange questions about my tastes and who I was attracted to, and wondering if I would ever get it; or if I had to lie about my romantic inclinations my whole life made sense. It didn’t make the questions go away, but I at least understood that when I responded that I’ve never had a crush before I wasn’t saying I was incomplete. It’s more recently that I started to accept that I’m also aromatic but that’s for different reasons, a different post I think. Around that time I also learned about trans people, that they existed. Many of my friends were. It sent me on a three year soul-search. After many sleepless nights, crying in the shower with confusion and frustration, hiding in my bed paralysed with fear of what it meant for the future I never got around to planning, and frantically scrawled notes to myself that are now lost to moving out, I figured it out. I reached an understanding of myself that I never cared to have before. It was a struggle through the barrier in my mind between my thoughts and emotions. I made a deep connection with myself I had never had, and have since lost again. The first time I said aloud that I thought I was trans, I was crouching backstage during rehearsal for the winter performance of the drama club my senior year. I was stage crew, crouched next to me were two friends. I don’t know what finally pushed me to say it, but that same feeling of relief and the realness of my own existence rushed through me again when they asked if I’d picked out a name yet and started using the right pronouns straightaway. It was different than learning about my asexuality, but nonetheless fulfilling. I’d quietly expected everyone in my life to deny me because of it. Didn’t matter to me if they themselves where trans, or they had shown support for it in the past. I was going to be a special case. But these were mostly baseless worries. I’ve noticed plenty of quiet prejudice and some not so quiet since then. But I was lucky in seeing little of it from those close to me. 

After high school was college, but not for long. I don’t remember for the life of me if I ended up going to two or three semesters, though I’m leaning more towards two. Those semesters where the darkest of my life. I remember trying and failing to do as good in college as I did in high school, I’d graduated with an honours diploma after all, college should be easy right? I hadn’t fully realised all the brand new stresses of having to choose what you wanted in life. Nothing could have prepared me because I hadn’t prepared myself. With a future so vast and endless, I shut down. My first choice was art college, I got accepted into the one I was looking at most. They ended up giving me almost a full ride scholarship, but it was in Portland and I couldn’t come up with enough money to live there. That plan fell through. Then I figured I’d just get a job around town and save up for next year, the college told me they’d reserve my spot and everything. But no one wanted to hire me. That plan fell through. I ended up at my community college. I hadn’t exactly wanted to pursue higher education in the first place, but I couldn’t manage to do anything else. The first semester was alright mostly, I finished it with average grades which for me was abysmal. My last semester there I’d only attended two of my originally scheduled five classes. The rest I hid from in the cafeteria. I was too afraid to tell my parents that I couldn’t get myself to go to the classes because they were so much more excited for my future than I was, and this was a good next step to whatever it ended up being. I didn’t want to let them down. I was working part-time then too, the job --my first-- had taken me more than a year to get. I think it was a combination of my inexperience and my being trans which led to so many rejections. At this point I’d applied to the majority of entry-level jobs in my hometown, and was running out of options. I went to campus as if I was taking class, instead hid in the cafeteria, then went to work. This continued until I moved out. I’d basically already quit college at that point, so when the semester ended, I didn’t register for new classes. But with the prodding of a friend during the campus tour the beginning of that year, I signed up for the GSA of the college. I really should thank that friend. They probably saved my life. The club was what got me through college. It was why I hid in the cafeteria. Between classes my friends from GSA would go there for meals or to do classwork. I met some people there who changed the direction I was heading. It is more sideways now than down. They helped me connect more to a community I hadn’t even known was established. I’m not the most active online or in person, and never had many friends to begin with. But even after I’d dropped out I went to the GSA meetings. They were, and are, the most supportive group I’ve ever been a part of. The more recent stuff I’ll keep to myself, at least for now. It’s been more than a year since I dropped out of college, and that year has seen even more of a dramatic shift in my life. It is all too close to the present now to discuss. I don’t regret my choice to leave college, and at the moment I’m not planning on returning. It has left a big angry mark on my life, and whatever good it would do me isn’t worth revisiting that part of my mind. But because of what I’d been through then I know who I am now. I know what it means to be me.

I don’t know where I’ll fall or how far till the bottom, but I know this. I’m ready to fly. Too much of my life has been clinging to a cliff, hoping for everything to pass me by. Waiting for it to all be over. But while I waited, my wings grew. I’m not ready. I don’t think I ever will be. But if I don’t go now my arms will fail and I will fall anyway. I liken myself to the mythical figure of Icarus often, mainly saying my pride will send me into the sea one day, which it will. Hubris will be my undoing. But maybe before that I should have the same fierce confidence to leap. To soar. Because I hope to be smarter than he, more cautious. It might not sound like it, but I am proud. I know the person I am now is better than the person from last year, last month even. And I am proud to belong. Because the rest of my life I never felt like I belonged, never fully connected. So this month, and beyond. You can catch me breathing deeply, knowing that whatever happens, I exist and I should be. It means so much more to know you aren’t alone in your experiences. Though no one else can be you, that doesn’t mean no one else can know you. It’s important to know where you come from, but it’s even more important to know why you got here isn’t just because you have a past, it’s because you also have a future.

[jesslcover]

H.E.A.L.T.H. What is it?

For many years, ive been trying to get all these beautiful inspiring stories out of my head and out into the public. I believe that I have a message and maybe my delivery is off but its there....  There is no right or wrong way to deliver a message because it truly comes down to the perception of the receiver, not you that creates the problem. If you have a message to share with the world.. share it, and if the world isn't ready, thats there issue, not yours. So here’s mine.... well a small piece of it... 

Have you ever thought about what the true definition of health is? Is the worlds definition of health congruent with your own definition? How did you come to your own way of health or do you follow others and envision yourself as them maybe when you were completely out of balance with yourself. Or did you do research on ways to quick fix your health Hit?  

There are so many ways we can view health and in each one of us, its different. Take a smoker of 30 years.....    If you or someone you know has smoked for a very long time and are thinking about quitting, you know its gonna be stressful. Even if you are 100% committed to giving up the filthy habit and saying good rides, the body and mind are going to, at some point be in stress overload. The nasty chemical of nicotine has adapted inside your body and your cells feed off of them but then ll of a sudden, you are suffocating the fuel for which stimulated the craving when they were on empty... So your brain thinks, “feed me nicotine, feed me oral fixation.” 

No patch, gum or physical ailment has ever been the true reason some someone killing the habit. The real healing and transformation comes from the energetic balance between what our mind is telling our body, and what forces surround us in our environment the controls our cravings within our body. 

For 12 years, I smoked very heavy cigarettes. Not the Light to Ultra light brands but the stuff the big boys, construction workers, mechanics, Beer Bellied red necks, used to smoke. My mom allowed me to smoke as many cigarettes as I wanted, just as long as I only smoked cigarettes and nothing else. 

In June 1999, after a car accident nearly caused my death, I was awaked into a new light and mindset. Still smoking cigarettes, going to church and attending local exercise classes, my perception to things was different.  

After 4.3 drooling months of battling a disconnect of me headspace and my Mind Body Spirit connection being in OFF mode, I was turn on with more voltage and internal power than ever before. 

In October 1999, 2.5 weeks after I was forced to drop out of high school, I was blown away that something so big, and active was living inside of my head. I asked myself, how could this tumor, be so unkind to just appear out of the blue and say, “That’s it Lady, POWER OFF.” 

I was a senior in High School, passionate about hospitality, working for Marriott hotels 23-28 hours a week in front office operations and selling shoes at Nine West 13-17 hours/week M-F. Marriot was a Fri-Sat-Sunday job with Holidays for  the additional overtime. After my accident, I lost my job at the shoe store however Marriott loved my positive energy and life force I expelled to guests while they checked in, even when I couldn't see over the front Desk front sitting in a chair from Pain. Although I felt much loved at this hotel, I would soon be discharged from here as well. 

October 24th, 1999, after my first attempt to get my GED, the equivalent to a High School Diploma, I failed. I felt horrible with my life. I had no job because of my disability, I quit high school and barely saw my friends, no driver license because they were taking from me by the State of Ohio for safety of other drivers and I was smoking 2-3 packs of cigarettes a day. How was I able to come out of this mess and go from SURVIVING to THRIVING?                           It certainly wasnt some Miracle pill or Reconstructive Surgery that changed me from the outside to inspire my inside......  It came from within me! How I looked at the physical things around me, how I gave thanks to everything, even a bird dropping its poo poo on my head while trying to sunbathe next to my neighbors pool, or having a check for $3.84 bounce over a pack of cigarettes. What taught me the greatest life comeback in these scenarios.

It was a wet and muggy Wednesday morning in October, the 27th to be exact, when my mom dreaded waking at 745am to take me to get a second opinion from a doctor at the Cleveland Clinic office near my small hometown. She had finished work at 1130pm the previous night to only arrive home around 1215am from the heavy rain that evening. My first appointment was at 830am. 

There were actually several appointments scheduled that day however my mom had to be at work by 1pm and wasnt able to take me to all of my appointments. After the first appointment, we decided to skip the potential MRI and take me to grandma’s house. 

For the next 9 months, until June, the summer of 2000, I stayed with grandma. It was a much happier place to be. Grandma had 3 fun loving dogs, a pool with a beautiful wooden deck big enough for 5-7 lawn chairs, and my aunt Kathy living within walking distance. Kathy smoked and she was more like a smoking buddy. I was able to make some money mowing yards for the neighbors and helping grandma with the house and her dogs. In June, I got my driver license back and went on a mission to find a job that would give me independence away from everyone! It was the greatest stepping stone into womanhood I could've ever taken. 

After attempting to retrieve my job with Marriott and being unsuccessful, an amusement park on the lake outside of cleveland contacted me for a summer job at one of their hotels in the park. Cedar Point is the PRIME ROLLERCOASTER park in the USA. Without hesitation, I took the job and moved 2.5 hours away in a cabin villa with 2 other girls, for the summer. 

Cutting to the chase... at the end of the summer, I felt like i was ready to go back to school and try my HSD again. It didnt take long to see that, this wasnt supposed to be the option for me. 

August 2000, just days before school was to begin, mom and I, her friend Cheryl and our long time neighbor were shopping for school supplies at our local Staples Store. Cheryl had MS and I took care of her also. Without her with us, my mom would've been in the Emergency room. 

As we were walking out of the store, I started to dauntingly walk a different direction than my mom and Cheryl. Completely disconnect from the world, my mom said she continued to yell at me but I didn't listen. Was I not listening or did I not hear her? 

In the moment when my mom gently grabbed my right shoulder to bring me toward our truck, I physically attacked her, bruised her face and she fell on the ground. Immediately she got back up and “started calling me names”, Cheryl said. Before we got to the truck, I came out of this brain freeze and began to ask my mom “Oh My God, what happened to you?” 

You can imagine my mom’s confusion, frustration and contemplation as to why I seemed to disillusioned to the event. This object in my brain was moving again and this time caused a disconnect that changed my life traumatically, with myself and my mother. 

A week before my Mom’s birthday, September 4, school had only jut begun and I was doing good until the long 3 days weekend for Labor Day. Labor day is the 1st Monday in September and my mom’s birthday happened to fall on that day however our doctors office was closed. 

The very next day, with a luck of the draw, Dr Angerman, who I saw the previous years, had a slot open at 9am which my mom booked me without question. The findings were what had been daunting me for more than 15 months. 

Ganglioglioma is low-grade tumor of mixed cell type. It is a type of brain tumor that contains properties of both glial cells (responsible for providing the structural support of the central nervous system) and neuronal cells (the functioning component of the central nervous system). It is very rare!! Being rare was one thing but with the location being life threatening inoperable, my mom burst into tears with fears of what to do with me. 

My Ganglioglioma treatments included:               Neurosurgery – to remove as much of the tumor as safely possible; surgery is often limited due to the deep, central placement of these tumors within the brain                                                                                                     Chemotherapy – either before surgery to shrink the tumor or to kill cancer cells 

Radiation therapy – precisely targeted treatment to control local growth of tumors; not recommended unless the child’s tumor has re-grown due to potential long-term side effects of therapy.

Cleveland Clinic has some of the most highly acclaimed doctors and surgeons in the world. They are one of the best trusted hospital resources for Neurological, Cardiac and Pulmonary operations. With a higher success rate than any other hospital affiliation on the entire planet, Dr Angerman relaxed my mom and assured her that I was in heaven’s hands.  On March 12th, 2001, I became a successful survivor of this rare scare of a brain tumor however the end wasn’t close yet. 

After 3 days, I was released from Cleveland Clinic Neurosurgery in Cleveland, Ohio, with 100% full confidence by Neurosurgeon Dr. Morris, that I would recover with no problems. March 16th, while at my grandmothers house, I had a stroke. I was paralyzed on the entire left side of my body for 6 weeks until April 29th 2001...... 

Dr Morris did an amazing job at my surgery and was the first person and step that gave me internal hope that led to my wellness path to what I call HEALTH however, it was the energy practices of Yoga& Pranayama, which no one in my red neck town had ever heard of), Mindfulness, Chiropractic, proper nutrition and guided imagery that allowed me to transform my mind, come back in tune with my body and provide positive feedback that would change my life, inside and out, forever. 

It’s now 18.5 years later, Aug 2019, and my passion for helping people, inspiring wellness and Mind Body Medicine to everyone I meet, especially as a career, gains excitement everyday! My true meaning of HEALTH is Holistic Enhancements Aspiring Longevity Tranquility & Happiness. Because true health starts with me, not with money, a beautiful BMW, fancy vacations or diamonds... It starts at the HEART... tap deep within and you will win.... no matter what you are going through!

When we live life in a state of our own positive definition of HEALTH, whatever it may be, we are creating an art that is unique to us and us only, but its from the heart. Learn to BREATHE... and used the same formula components(letters) to BE HEART! 

Sorry for any typos...

Namaste, Good Night friends. 

[collateralfiction]

07

Bailey

"I'm proud of you, yo. I remember you dreading High School and now look at you?! 'Bout to be a junior in College this fall. Shit, you're better than Ryan," Riley chuckled, leaning against the couch cushion. It was rare to have Riley in New York when he's usually down south but his random visits here and there were nothing short of amazing for me. No matter what he would always find some time to spend the day with me or whatever the case may be since he doesn’t live in New York. I was just happy that he kept me in his thoughts the way he did. While he and Ryan might not have had the best of a relationship, it was a work in progress and that's what matters. I just know without a doubt Riley and I clicked off bat. "Real shit, B. I don't say it enough to you though,"

"Thank you," I mumbled, playing with the ends of my hair. “Besides my parents, I'm graduating for you as well,"

"Shit, you might as well," he chuckled. "I should have put my degree to use. I don't know why I haven’t,"

"Same here. But, it's never too late to make use of it; you’re smart and furthermore, know that I'm supporting you 100%. I just want to dedicate this to you as well because you are a strong reason as to why I'm majoring in Sociology to begin with. Trust, you're definitely included in this journey with me," I teased. He shook his head slowly and sunk further into the white couch. As a tradition, my family and his would come together for dinner, smack dab in the middle of the week. It was just a bonus that Riley came down when he did because he was literally M.I.A and it was rare that we would all be in the same space at the same time.

"I think I'm going to move my ass up here, soon,"

My eyes instantly enlarged at his revelation. With him and his brother reconnecting, a move to the east coast would be amazing. Georgia is great and all, but his real family is in New York and that’s where he should reside at. “Are you serious? That’s one of the best news I’ve heard all week,” I gushed. Up until Wednesday night, it had seemed like I was experiencing the worse week of my life. A visit upstate to my father was supposed to occur but due to his behavior, they suspended visitation and calls for three weeks. He’s in solitary confinement and I’m worried that this might push him in for a longer sentencing. Other than that, I’ve just seemed to have bad luck; none of the test I’ve gotten back have been over an eighty, my partner for a project that’s due in a week has been slacking and Ryan and I aren’t on the best of terms.

“Now, I don’t want you to get gassed ‘cause of this because it’s not set in stone but I’m letting you know,”

“My lips are sealed. Just make it happen,” I smiled widely.

“I want it to be the perfect timing, so everything will fall into place. If not, shit will be a mess,” he stated.

“What? What do you mean by that?” I riposted, sitting up.

Is that what he truly meant?

Precision is key?

Without precision, what are you really left with?

A mess.

That must have been a warning early on; a premonition. But who am I kidding? I don't believe in those.

I brought the flat iron to my hair, gently sliding it against the grasp of hair I had left. I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t do today and accidentally allowed my hair to get wet from the shower I took earlier and due to the heat, it’s no surprise that my hair began to curl. The weather was perfect for a day in where I wore my hair straightened so I was going to take full advantage of that and straighten it for this special occasion. I’m just hoping my hair lasted for as long as I needed it to. Blowing out a steam of air, I placed the flat iron against the counter of my mother’s bathroom and smiled at the finished product. If I do say so myself, I did do a damn good job at straightening my hair. All I needed to do was apply a bit of makeup and I’d be set.

Normally, it would be a blessing for someone to see their graduation day and for me, that’s exactly what it was, ten times over. 4 weeks – a month – had passed and I was safe, well as safe as I could get. I’m not too sure what occurred but days had passed since a week had gone by and not a word from Adrian. I was starting to suspect that Ryan finally handled the situation like I advised him to, but I would never know if he indeed handled the situation like I asked him to anyhow. Whatever the case may be, I was grateful,l and I was doing the one thing that I knew would make my parents and Riley extremely happy. As of lately, my mother has been in a stressful state and even with me somewhat living back home, it seems like paranoia is still infused into her thinking. But, I can’t say I don’t fault her for her thinking.

“Wedges or heels?” I mumbled quietly to myself. I was already dressed and wore a white, strapless dress. It hugged my body in all the right places but was more than appropriate to wear for graduation. There was a hint of blue in the dress along the sides, but it just made for a great touch in color.

“Heels, baby,” I jumped slightly and turned around, coming face to face with my mother. Graduation began at 3 and it was 12 now. It took my mother quite some time to get ready, so I hope she doesn’t make matters worse by causing everyone else to be late. Behind her walked in my aunt from my father’s side, Nia, who looked absolutely flawless with no makeup on her chocolate complexion. I quickly rushed towards her, extending my arms out for a hug. She smelled of peaches and you might as well say that, that was her signature scent.

“I agree with your mom, baby doll,” I smiled inwardly at the term baby doll. According to her, growing up, I looked nothing like a live baby. Instead, I resembled those brown American Girl dolls you would see on T.V. and downtown. From there, I would constantly have her calling me that, but I loved it, especially since it came from her. “College graduation doesn’t come with a prom, so you might as well floss while you can,” she smiled, rubbing my back gingerly. My Aunt Nia lived in California but would frequently make her rounds to New York, especially since her brother is incarcerated. She’s been staying with my mother and I for over a week and it has been very pleasant, especially with the new company of a family member in this lavish house of ours. My cousin is Upstate at the moment, so there’s more than enough room and space for Aunt Nia. “Try these,” she offered after rummaging through my mother’s closet.

I clasped my hand over my mouth as I stared at my mother’s shocked facial expression. “The infamous red bottoms, I’ll take them,” I said with no hesitation.

“And come with me now, miss lady!” she said, leading me towards the bathroom. “I need to do your makeup and then we can go,” she mumbled. “You need more for dramatic effect,”

“What about you and my mother? Oh, let’s not forget Rayne!”

“Rayne is ready. She’s napping now but she’s ready. Your mother is getting ready now, trust me. As for me, I’m good to go. You think I need makeup?” I giggled while shaking my head. I plopped down in the sole chair in the middle of the bathroom and removed my iPhone from the charger. It was alarming how much messages occupied my lock screen. For a second, I began to feel overwhelmed, but I knew these messages were all out of love. I just wasn’t in the mood to hold lasting conversations with anyone. The only person I would like to hold a conversation with is my father.

And maybe Ryan.

As expected, he wouldn’t be able to attend my graduation and furthermore, I haven’t talked to him in over two weeks. The last time we talked, I had decided it was in my best interest to leave out what’s been happening lately. But what broke me the most is that he mentioned not a single word on my graduation. Maybe it slipped his mind, maybe it didn’t. I just wished he would have acknowledged it, so I wouldn’t be struggling now to enjoy my day.

Aunt Nia had pulled my hair into a neat ponytail behind me while wrapping a black towel around my shoulders. “Any ideas for today?” she inquired.

“Plain and simple, nothing too extravagant,” I mumbled.

“You okay, baby doll? You don’t look like you’re happy. Is something wrong?” she said, resting her hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine,” I lied through my teeth. “I just wish daddy was here, you know? Other than that, I can’t wait to get my diploma, go home and sleep. Eating is included in there by the way,” I chuckled.

“I understand. We all miss him, I sure know I do,” she murmured, going into her purse to pull out a few essential MAC products that would be used on me. “But, let’s think positively, okay? This is your day, your moment to shine. Even when your dad is away, he still gets attention. No more,” she paused to laugh. "Don't worry, boo. It'll all get better. How's Ryan? I haven't heard or seen him lately,"

"Well, Ryan and I are... on a break," I sighed. I was more than serious with my statement towards Ryan. In those two days, if he didn't have his shit together, I would be gone. Of course, I didn't mean it for real, but I knew I had to start being firm with him or he wouldn't understand how serious I'm being. We just both came to the terms of being on a break because it was for the best at this point. We were both aware of the sudden difference and changes in our behavior with one another and preventing us from tearing apart any further, we need to halt what we have now and come back when the timing is right. The only things that seemed to hurt me more than the break was how quickly Ryan agreed to it. I was at least hoping he would be against the idea of one but, I was wrong, so wrong.

From that day on, I haven't heard nor talked to him. I hear a few things here and there about him but other than that, it's nothing. The time apart from Ryan has given me some time to reflect and think about certain things but besides that, it's been making me a bit unsatisfied about my decision. I miss him. Her loud gasp expelled from her rose-colored lips and I knew any second now, she was going to hit me with a million and one questions. Questions I wasn't too interested in answering but I knew I would have to anyhow. She removed her hands from me and stood directly in front of my face with disbelief written all over.

She hasn't been informed on the Adrian situation yet and I don't see a reason to, to begin with. The break stemmed from him, to be honest. I've kept this from my father for so long and it's not like he can do anything from behind bars, so I see no point in bringing it to my aunt's attention. "Please? No," I muttered, deciding I wouldn't spill any beans on the situation.

"Okay," she mumbled. "Let's get you all dolled up then," she said exasperatedly.

"Thank you,"

__

I couldn't believe how undeniably handsome Chance looked in his suit. He opted out of wearing the suit jacket and decided to show off his blue shirt with the perfect tie resting atop it. Then, he had on the other half of the suit on his bottom half with perfect shoes to correlate. He went to the barbershop earlier in the day and trimmed his hair and facial hair. Out of the few years of knowing him, it was amazing to see him in such a different light. I nearly attacked him with love in a hug as soon as my mother and I picked him up. He gave my dress a once over and noted that it was above my knees, unacceptable according to him. Once all greetings were done, we were on our way to the famous Carnegie Hall for the ceremony. I waited to see if Ryan would call or show up but to no avail, he didn’t. "Fuck that nigga," I muttered, handing Rayne my phone. I was going to start being selfish and focus on my own well-being. It was about time. “I’ll see you guys after the ceremony. Chance and I have to take our seats,” I mumbled towards my mother.

She smiled, gathering me in yet another hug before placing a kiss on my cheek.

Adrian

Tape?

Rope?

Bat?

Gun?

Taser?

Do I really need any of that? Not at all. My presence is intimidating enough. I don’t need much reinforcement with what I’m about to do. My plan is simple; the less extravagant, the better. The best advice someone would ever receive from me is knowing your shit. You can’t proceed to do shit without having basic information. So, research was my best friend for the past week. Bailey Banks: twenty-one, daughter of Anthony Banks and Camryn Banks, works at her mother’s day care Monday, Wednesday and Thursday, best friend name is Chance and has relatives in California, Florida and Virginia. It was basic information to me but more than enough to raise a few alarms in her head; perfect. Standing up from tying my sneakers, I grabbed my watch from off my nightstand and placed it over my wrist. I spritzed a little bit of cologne on me before heading down the stairs.

To cause less attraction to myself, I decided to go alone. Having my boys around would just bring more attention and this has to run as smoothly as possible. “Alright, I’m out,” I mumbled, grabbing the car keys to my Range. “I should be back in a few hours,” I stated.

“Alright,” They all nodded.

“This should be fun,” I grumbled.

__

Seated in the back of the auditorium, a pair of shades rested on the brim of my nose. Apparently, you needed a ticket in order to be seated inside of the auditorium but that was the least of my worries. There is nothing a few bucks can’t do. For the duration of the two hours, I used my phone as a source of entertainment. I killed nearly fifty percent of my batteries just sitting here. Shit was too boring, but they were finally getting down to the main source of entertainment. With Bailey’s last name starting with a B, I sat up and watched as she sashayed across the stage. Even from afar, I was able to see her perfectly. The gown that covered her body did nothing to stop from showing her shape. I know from prior knowledge she was on the track team and all that running did her body great justice.

Licking my lips, I watched on as she smiled and accepted her diploma with grace. In a few rows ahead of me, her family stood, clapping loud as fuck. They might as well, this will be the last few memories they’ll have with baby girl. Standing up, I removed myself from the row I was seated in and went outside to my car and got in. There was no need for me to watch everyone else graduate. A pack of cigarettes rested on the dashboard and I took one out, lightening it before placing it to my lips.

Smoke after smoke exited my mouth until there was nothing left of the cigarette. My patience was growing thin, just having to wait but patience was a strong virtue. A flock of people began to exit through the entrance of the building causing me to sit up. I kept my eyes on the surrounding people, not wanting to miss Bailey at any moment. Lucky for me, Bailey seemed to part away from the group and headed towards her car. This friend of hers, Chance, slid into the other side of the car and before I knew it, they were off. I revved up my car and followed behind them discreetly. I needed to know where exactly they were heading and if Bailey would once be alone. I remained a few cars behind them, cutting into different streets to cause less attention to be placed on me. Within twenty minutes, I recognized her neighborhood from the first time paying her a visit.

However, this time wasn’t a visit.

I parked on the next block over, deciding to walk a block over. When I approached the block of her building complex, her and her friend approached their building, opening the door and walking inside. Being as casual as ever, I strolled towards the door and politely held the door open for the woman and child that approached it as well. By the time I entered into the building, Bailey was nowhere to be seen so I assumed they took the stairs. That left me with one option, so I took the elevator up to the correct floor landing. As the elevators parted, I was blessed to see Bailey by herself, reaching into her purse to pull out her keys. Smirking, I strolled off the elevator and towards her, which was quite a distance. As expected, she has quite the shape. Since her dress was all white, it really highlighted her physical appearance. That ass is fat!

Since my footsteps were light, she didn’t suspect or notice anyone coming from behind her as she entered into her apartment. Before she had the opportunity to close the door, I stuck my foot inside the small space causing her to abruptly freeze. She turned to look at me and her jaw dropped. “Baby girl, we meet again,” I chuckled. “Close your mouth. You won’t be doing any of that yet,” I winked. I locked the door behind us, pushing her further into her apartment. She remained silent, too shock to realize what was happening right before her pretty brown eyes.

“Get out!” she gritted.

“Oh, I will but you’ll be coming with me,” I stated. “You honestly didn’t think I would forget, now did you?” Still, she remained quiet. I pulled her closer to me and leveled my mouth close to her ear. “Listen and listen closely. I will only repeat myself once, make me do it twice, you’re pushing it. Hand over your keys and phone. Pack a few articles of clothing and we’ll leave as soon as you’re done. Don’t think about speaking out nor acting a fool in front of me. Do the wrong thing, suffer the consequences,” I spoke clearly, enunciating all vowels and syllables. I gripped her elbow and pushed her further into her apartment, slightly causing her to stumble. “The faster, the better,”

“I don’t have my phone on me,” she spoke, dropping her keys on the floor for me to pick up. Chuckling a bit at her antics, I clenched my jaw.

“Make this easy for us, alright? I don’t have all damn day!” I snatched her purse from her grasp and turned it upside down, like expected her gold iPhone was displayed on the floor. Lucky for her, no crack insight. Unlucky for her, she won’t be using it. "GO!" She jumped at the sound of my voice before stalking off. Shaking my head, I grasped her phone in my hand, along with her keys before throwing her wallet to the side.

Knowing women like the back of my hand, I headed straight towards her kitchen. There’s a chance she would put up a fight, although she’s quiet at the moment. I grabbed the trash can, dumping all knives I could get my hands onto into the garbage can. This seems to be moving along swell, too swell in fact. Her home phone was on the kitchen counter and knowing that most people have more than one, I unplugged the device, watching it immediately turn off and knowing everything else did as well. Standing tall, I turned around, coming face to face with Bailey herself. A smirk emerged on my face. “The feisty type, huh? Kind of sexy but you ain’t finna get on my nerves today,” I grimaced. She stared at me with the blankest of all expressions on her beautiful face. However, I knew this all too well. She was about to fight a nigga; cool with me. I just don’t think she would look too attractive with a busted lip.

Bailey

It wasn’t until I was in the comfort of my own room where my fight or flight senses kicked in. Things were too good to be true. A month passes and not once does Adrian find the need to speak existence into his words? I believed him once when he spoke on it, but I am without a doubt shocked to see him now. The whole duration of graduation, I was happy for once and that all wiped away as soon as Adrian came around. I stood in the corner of my room, helpless; I had absolutely no phone for communication and to make matters worse, I was alone and defenseless. My heart slammed against my chest rapidly as I went to lock my bedroom door. I had to think quickly so I stripped from my graduation dress, throwing it on the bed. Rummaging through my dresser, I found a sweat suit ensemble and threw it over my body. My mind was disheveled as I thought of possible ways to handle this situation under pressure. I felt like giving up and surrendering but my father immediately popped into my mind. I couldn’t.

Ridding myself of the tears that managed to escape, I got up from the space on the floor and calmed myself down. My father’ words rang louder than ever: “Regardless of what others will tell or do to you, Bailey, this is your life. Don't let no one take that from you. You are the last one standing at the end, remember that. Use your head in this game, not your heart, you hear me?" I started to cough profusely as tears began to swell in my eyelids. They weren't tears that I was possibly scared out of my mind but tears of anger. "You cannot run on impulses, Stay strong,"

At this point, I had no other choice but to fight, even if I wouldn't win.

Creeping up behind him, I took notice of how he was emptying my knives and throwing them away. To be quite honest, those were the last things I thought of using. I was trying to protect myself, not end up in jail. When he was finished, he turned around with that infamous smirk plastered over his face. For someone so cocky, he’s so sure of it that I wouldn’t fight back. He ranted and raved about shit I couldn’t care less about. Standing firm in my spot, I watched intently as he strolled towards me. His hands were outstretched just a smidge, but I took this as my chance to attack. Before he could slyly wrap his arms around me, I balled my fist up, aiming perfectly at his structured jaw. I stepped back, watching the shocked expression harbor across his facial expression. “Bitch!” he hissed. Seeing him take steps towards me, I began walking backwards and running like my life depended on it towards the door.

Before I could even get close enough, he roughly snatched me from the hood of my sweater, pulling me back and slamming me against the wall roughly. “Get the fuck off of me!” I snarled, squirming out of his tight grasp.

“Can’t do that, baby girl,” he said against my skin, lightly kissing it. Remembering that the knives were in the garbage can, I had to do everything in my power to get towards them and I’d be good. I stopped moving, hoping he’d believe that I was finally going to comply with him. “That’s right,” he said evenly. He leaned off against me and turned me towards him. With my body aligned to his, I kneed him in his groin causing his cheeks to flutter red in a matter of seconds. His grip loosened on me a bit and when that did occur, I slid from between him and the wall and towards the garbage can, grabbing the largest knife I could find and holding it tightly in my arm. Hearing his heavy footsteps behind me, I quickly turned around and ducked, briskly walking away from him and on to the other side of the island. “You’re going to stab me? That ain’t gon’ do shit. You don’t have it in you,” he taunted.

“You don’t know shit about me,” I gritted.

“That’s cute ‘cause I’m sure I do,” he stated, licking his lip. “But that doesn’t matter. Your ass is mine! Girls like you are just too defiant, huh? For what? It would be so much easier if you just complied. We wouldn’t have to fight like this,” he said with a pout.

“Fuck you!” I gritted, deciding it was in my best interest to run.

“We’ll get there,” With his height and long legs as an advantage, he gripped my hair and pulled me back once again causing my body to slam against the hardwood floor. I groaned, turning on my side to alleviate pain from my back and shutting my eyes tightly. I hadn’t noticed my glass table shattered beneath me nor majority of my intricate painting and frames fallen and on the floor.

“Fuck,” I groaned. The impact alone from crashing on the floor had surfaced through my body all too quickly. I let go of the knife in my hand, watching Adrian come into my view. He kneeled beside me, shaking his head.

“See what happens when you don’t comply,” he muttered. “All your fault,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. Every muscle in my body seemed to be on fire so badly. I felt as if someone were sticking knives into me repeatedly. Where was Ryan at when I needed him the most? All those conversations of him promising to be there no matter what were all in vain. They didn’t hold any substantial value at all. My life was literally slipping away and the moment I needed him the most, I would receive less action from him than before. Ryan said that he would protect me and do everything in his power to make sure I’d be alright while my dad was away. At this very moment, he went back on his word while my life is slipping, and no one knows it. He allows for shit to simmer and allows for his supposed loved ones to be hurt in the process. At this point, I want nothing to do with Ryan. I see what he chose to focus on and it includes me not one bit. “Since you’re too stubborn for your own good, I’m not going to give you any freedom at all. Fuck your first amendment as of now. What we’re going to do is leave this apartment complex and I swear to God, if you do something out of the ordinary in public, that’s your life you’re chancing, got it?”

His grin was wicked, almost sadistic like. I was held against the wall, feeling like my legs were on its way of giving out. If it weren’t for Adrian holding me up, I would have fell. I nodded, coughing profusely.

“Speak up,”

“Got it,” I strained to say.

“We’ll see,” he grumbled. His heavy boots plodded against my hardwood floor as he stared at me. With my body on fire, I wasn’t able to tell how disheveled I really looked. “Your ass can walk so that’s what you’ll do. No running or anything of that shit,” he spoke near my ear. I verbally responded towards him, feeling like I lost this battle like I knew I would. Chance and I were supposed to come home, change out of our clothes and meet back up with my mother for a dinner and so on but I don’t see where our plan was flawed. Chance doesn’t even know what’s going on above him. Days without him, my sister or mother will make me life hard, let alone make theirs the same way. I couldn’t even fathom the emotional part of this because I didn’t want to. Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes at any given moment and I didn’t want to give in to my tears of weakness and defeat.

Grabbing ahold of my hand roughly, he began to walk towards the entrance of my apartment with me trailing slowly behind. I froze in my stance once I heard Chance’s voice from the other side of the door. Adrian turned and looked at me skeptically. “Tell him to go away,” he muttered, gripping my forearm tighter than before.

I winced from his rough action. “I can’t,”

“Do it or I’ll kill the both of you,” he threatened. Not once had I seen a gun on him, but I wouldn’t doubt his capabilities just yet. He had me feeling like I was about to collapse anytime soon.

“Ayo, Bailey!” Chance said once again, knocking on the door this time.

“Uh, I’m coming,” I said, keeping my eyes on Adrian.

Letting go of me, he allowed me to go towards the door, limping, while he moved to the other side of the door. I unlocked the door from the top and due to Adrian’s feet held at a certain position, I could only open the door so far. “Don’t fuck up,” he stated.

“What’s up, Chance?” I said, trying to hide the pain I was currently in with a smile.

Chuckling quickly, he asked, “Why you acting so strange? Open the door so I can come in,”

Licking my lips, I knew that was the last thing I could do. “Uh, not now, Chance. I have Ryan here and uh, we’re talking over some things,” I lied.

His eyes widened out of pure shock. “How long do you think it’ll be? Do you want me to wait or?”

“Give me twenty minutes,” I said. He nodded and took a step back, so I could close the door. I heard his footsteps grow faint before blowing out a sigh of relief. I huffed, leaning against the wall. I stared at Adrian with a blank expression to which he simply smirked at. He's always smirking; I hate it.

“See what happens when your nigga doesn’t come through for you?” he chuckled. “I guess he wasn’t your nigga to begin with anyhow,” he shrugged. My face frowned into confusion at his words, but I had not a second or time to think about his words because he was practically dragging me out of my apartment the next minute. Instead of taking the stairs like I thought he would, we merged onto the elevator, taking it to the lobby. His hands dropped from my forearm and into my small hands, filling out the small gaps. His eyes were solely focused ahead so I’m not sure he caught my stares. Apart of me just had to wonder what true purpose I would be to him. How would I benefit him? I would ask but I don’t think I would get a true answer just yet. In order for me to get any answer or any taste of freedom, I would have to play the game correctly. I wasn’t stupid, but in this scenario, playing dumb just might get me where I need to be or at least, that’s where I’m hoping it would take me.

Once the elevator doors parted, Adrian took full control, holding onto my hand and walking with a powerful and confident stride. From the pains radiating through my sides, it was sort of difficult to do the same, but I wasn’t willingly to put myself in more danger now that I’m in this predicament right now. The doormen smiled at me and I forced one upon my features. Once we stepped outside, he dropped my hand from his and used his car keys to unlock this metallic colored Range Rover. I waited for further instructions like the dumb ass I was portraying to be before being shoved into the passenger side of his expensive vehicle.

“Can you be any rougher?” I groaned, turning around and bringing my fist up. This time he caught it, clenching his jaw in the process.

“Watch it,” he gritted. “Get in and keep to yourself. Don’t touch a thing,” he ordered. He came over on the other side of his car and slid in, bringing the car to life. “And to answer your question, yes I can,” he winked. I scoffed, crossing my arms over my bust.

“Don’t flatter yourself, asshole. Have your fun now but I won’t be here forever,” I snapped. His husky chuckles fled past his pink lips. “What is my purpose exactly?

“Nothing more than collateral, baby girl. Then again, you’re nice arm candy,”

“Why thank you,” I muttered.

“Alright, shut the fuck up. No more talking for the duration of the ride. I’on need it,”

“You don’t need me,”

“On the contrary,” he mumbled before zooming down the street.

__

Almost close to two hours had passed and I had not once fallen asleep. With my sides aching from pain and exhaustion, you would think I would find some sort of comfort in wanting to fall asleep and numb all of this, but I couldn’t. I had an urge to look at my phone, but I realized he had it in his possession this whole time. I could only fathom for a second what could have been occurring in New York and what my mother was experiencing. Surely, Chance would have come back after twenty minutes and noticed that I wasn’t there any longer. His best bet would be to call Ryan and by the time he called Ryan, he would have figured out I was lying. Coming to an abrupt halt, I looked away from my nails and towards the large estate before me. It looked to be something that came out of MTV cribs. The driveway was in the shape of a circle with a small fountain in the center. The house itself was a tan color with intricate design details aligning the exterior of the estate. Without a doubt, I was reminded of something resembling royalty when I took a glance at the exterior of the extravagant building. No way was a regular nine to five job pulling something this huge.

The doors on the car finally unlocked and for the first time in four hours, I felt free… to a certain extent. “Get out the car,” his rough voice invaded my eardrums causing my head to snap in his direction.

“Oh, you’re not going to open it for me?” I said sarcastically.

He smirked, removing the key from the ignition. “I would if you were more compliant. This’ll be fun though,” Rolling my eyes, I stepped out of the vehicle and slammed the door behind me. Adrian walked ahead of me and I timidly walked behind him, taking in my surroundings. The place looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t put a name to it. “Welcome to your new home for however long it is that I would like to keep you,” he said, extending the door for me to walk through. "You're officially mine,"

Play the game but don’t get played…

[chapitre7]

Beneath The Milky Twilight, Kiss Me

Final Chapter

Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo [달의 연인-보보경심 려] fanfiction

Modern AU

Wang So/Hae Soo

Chapter 5 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1

Time is such a fickle thing, don’t you think? Good moments seem to pass by so fast, but when they turn sour in our mouths, remembering them feels like recollecting years upon years. The more I long to be happy again, the more time seems to stand still, to hold itself back, only to unravel at top speed when I’m content, when I’m pouring my heart out. 

I’m so different than I was a year ago and so different still than I was before that. Like the seasons that pass, flowers that bloom and wither and die, falling so others can be born in their place. 

We mourn the things we lost, but there’s still so much we look forward to, isn’t there? So much we want to see, so much we want to be. 

I want to be with you. After the seasons pass and spring comes again, I want to be with you. 

And the spring after that. 

And the one after that, too. 

 It’s winter when they meet again. There’s winter in her, a lighter color in her hair, like snow that got caught in the strands and never left. He stares at her with the book she chose for him such a long time ago in his hands, eyes widening as she taps the tips of her shoes on the library floor, shaking off the dirt, collecting herself and her heart before looking back at him. They walk through the corridors of the library together, almost as if they had agreed to be there, as if they had agreed to stick together. She stands on her tiptoes trying to pick a book she was sure she could reach but he’s behind her, covering her, a hand on her shoulder and the other on her book. He gives it to her, along with a smile, and all the weeks without him are worth it for the reunion. His steps match her pace, a song picking up where it left off, and she braves the city with him for the first time in that new year.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, gazing at the details of the houses they pass by, as if the question doesn’t matter. Soo smiles to herself. 

“I wasn’t mad at you, So.” 

He nods in agreement. He won’t look her in the eye so she thinks he might not agree, really. 

“Where have you been?” She asks, her short, blonde hair whipping around when she turns her head to him. 

“My father went back to work so I had to look after Jung. He’s finally drawing again…” He looks ahead, beyond the two of them. “A neighbor is babysitting Jung today so I could go out for a bit.” 

Soo hums. 

“You?” He asks in turn. 

“I had to help Mr. Choi with a few things so I guess we sort of missed each other.” 

He finally meets her gaze and she hopes he caught all of the meanings of the word; she had taught him well, so she remains optimistic. 

They walk to their park and sit on the table like the youth they are, their feet lying next to each other and the city lights capturing their attention in the distance. 

“I’m sorry,” says Wang So, leaning back on his hands like he did on the day of their first date. “I meant to message you but…” Soo smiles. She did teach him well. But in her contradictory heart, she wishes he had messaged her. 

“I’ve already forgiven you.” 

She sighs to the landscape, her breath condensing in clouds in front of her. 

“You know, what really made me happy wasn’t that failed plan of yours, but everything after that. Spending time with you. I wasn’t mad at you, So, I was... Upset. Because I like you, and I want you to do better.” She looks at him, at his wide eyes. “Does that make sense?” 

“You like me?” 

Soo snorts, touching the tip of her shoes together, shaking her head at the obvious ways our minds worked sometimes. 

“You do have a way of making things make sense, Soo.” 

Her smile widens, and she thinks her cheeks are already starting to hurt. So changes his position beside her and their hands lie side by side, holding the edge of the table. Soo’s gaze lingers at the space between them. 

“Why couldn’t you break the ice like a normal person?” She asks, narrowing her eyes playfully. “’Hi, my name is Wang So, I’m Baek Ah’s best friend and it’s a pleasure to meet you.’” 

“Okay, first of all? I sound nothing like that,” he says, tapping her on the forehead, laughter permeating his every word. “Second of all, you’re not as easy to approach as you think you are.” 

“Neither are you!” Her shoulder pushes against his arm. “You barely looked at me that day! It was like you were taking a nap with your eyes open.” 

“You realize you were reading off the book and not being particularly interesting yourself, right?” 

“I resent that.” 

Their shoulders shake with laughter, touching in that winter afternoon, and the space between them disappears, melts away. 

“I wanted to befriend you,” he starts, looking away, seeing that day before his eyes. “But I’m not that good at it. And you were so pretty with the blush on your cheeks and the glasses that I was nervous. I hadn’t felt that way around a girl before.” 

Wang So leans forward, towards the city, but his head is turned to her. Seeing his eyes look at her from below, shining with a light she hadn’t seen in so long, makes him all the more endearing. 

“I really did want to kiss you then. But I wouldn’t do it if you didn’t want me to.” 

Soo laughs because his admission is much closer to what she had expected from him the first time. She half wants to hit him on the forehead with her books and half wants to— 

“By the way,” she says, “I’m buying that book for you so you’ll stop holding the poor thing captive.” 

He actually looks offended. 

“I told the librarian that I was writing a paper on it and she let me borrow it again. It’s perfectly fine.” 

Soo touches his arm and shakes him lightly, excitement lighting up her eyes. 

“I’ll buy it for you and then you’ll be able to make your own highlights and write little notes in the margins.” 

She giggles and he lets out a fake gasp. 

“Who writes in the margins of literature books? You’re a monster, Hae Soo.” 

She pushes him and runs away, the invitation easily accepted. They circle the table a few times, Soo making little jumps, ducking, twirling away from his grasp, but she’s not as fast and his strides are too long, and eventually he picks her up from behind, his arms circling around her middle and trapping her arms, Soo letting out a small yelp when her feet levitate from the ground. 

“I yield!” She calls between giggles and short breaths, his laughter sounding close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck, and when he puts her down, she doesn’t think twice before twirling around and pecking him on the lips. 

She only notices it’s snowing when she looks up at his reaction. Wang So freezes, blinks a few times, and proceeds to cover his face, hide his eyes from view. Soo holds on to his forearms and tries to pull them down, and her cheeks definitely hurt by then, from all the genuine happiness she feels. 

“What? What?” She asks him. 

“I didn’t think you’d do that,” he confesses. Soo pulls on his arms until he lets his hands fall, taking perfect advantage of his embarrassment and stature to sneak her arms around his middle and rest her cheek against his chest. The frantic beating of his heart close to her ear, his arms that fall around her, the hand that touches her hair and the hairpin that she still uses to remember him by, they all envelop her, allow her to fall into the presence of Wang So, the dear friend she had missed, the boy she was guiding inside her mind, inside her heart. Trust was a flower that had fallen, died away, only for a new one to be born in its place. 

“Don’t disappear again,” she whispers against his jacket. “I’ll text you.” 

“Okay,” is his answer. Soo pulls away to look at him, to feel his hands pet her hair back into place, to revel in his smile and the redness on his cheeks that radiated warmth in their proximity. 

“Do you like it?” She asks him when he can’t take his hands away from her hair and he nods, laughs an embarrassed laughter, unsure of what to do with himself. 

Hae Soo is just a high school student who once liked someone she shouldn’t have, and although she wasn’t sure if she would ever like someone again, she discovers there are so many things for her to see, so many different kinds of people for her to know, so many different things a person can be. Baek Ah is honest opinions and meaningful words and a cocky kind of pride in his accomplishments. Mr. Choi is full of inspiring spirit and loud laughter at unexpected times. Her mother is elegance in simple gestures and the most welcoming of smiles, and even Wook had traits she marked down in her memory, signs she would look for in people to protect herself and those she loved. And Wang So... She learned attraction can happen at first glance, that he’s as awkward as he’s perceptive, that he still has many things to learn, and that he awakened in her the simple joy of being, and that his admiration for her and her ability to make him laugh only made her own confidence rise inside of her from the ashes of what she once was. 

Learning is a never-ending experience, Mr. Choi taught her. When she tells Baek Ah after they return from winter break that she’s dating Wang So and he promptly falls from his chair, she knows that she loves learning more than anything else in the world.

“Hae Soo,” Hwangbo Yeon Hwa growls. “Your boyfriend is waiting for you by the front gate.” 

The force with which Yeon Hwa bumps her shoulder into Soo’s is a wonder to her as she walks to the cited place, her high school diploma in hand, her feet unable to keep from hopping across the campus that she would no longer visit after that day. 

“What did you say to Yeon Hwa?” She asks So with narrowed eyes, her triumphant smile just encouraging his smirk. 

“I told her I was waiting for the prettiest girl in the school and told her to call you. Who was she anyway?” 

“The prettiest girl in school.” 

Her laughter is so unstoppable, causing her to lean against the wall for support, that So almost has to carry her away. 

She walks with her head raised high, one hand shielding her eyes from the golden sunrays that she loves, the other holding So’s hand. He carries both of their diplomas, keeping his eyes trained ahead so his girlfriend doesn’t bump into any tree or person. 

“Do you think I’m going to be a good teacher?” 

Wang So chuckles. 

“I think you should focus on passing college first.” 

Soo nods. 

“We’re going to take the same train every day. Do you think we’re going to see Baek Ah? I forgot to ask him about that.” 

“I do believe I have classes in the same building as him so I don’t think I will escape Baek Ah. Maybe I shouldn’t have chosen Architecture.”

She giggles, looking up at him and brushing cherry blossoms off his hair. 

“And then I’ll call you after my classes.” 

“I don’t think I should answer personal phone calls at work.” 

She pokes his shoulder. 

“Are you saying you’re not going to take my calls?” 

“I’m confident I can answer your calls and check out items at the convenience store at the same time.” 

Soo lets go of his hand, rushes in front of him and walks a few steps backwards, facing him, his feet touching the spaces left by hers. 

“I can look after Jung sometimes while you study. It’ll be fun, he likes me.” 

So stops and she stops too, leaning into his touch when he cups her cheek with his hand. 

“Then you’ll help me design a pretty house where we can all live in?” 

Soo loves feeling his chuckles when she embraces him, and the spring sun that covers them in possibilities. 

“Are you sure you’re not going to get tired of me, Soo?” 

She shakes her head, her darling hair following her movements in gentle waves. He still tucks her bangs behind her ear, still looks at her like he’s looking at her for the first time, like his eyes might unveil the secret of his thoughts. Soo has seen that look many times and still she missed it in all the hours they spent away studying in different schools, in all the days he had his own chores to take care of. She can perfectly envision those eyes filled with sleep, greeting her first thing in the morning on the platform, before they board together and sit together and fall asleep against each other all the way to their brand new lives. She had learned there were silences as soothing and beautiful as the ones she spent with her books and her adventures. There’s still so much they can see, on their own paths and the paths they connected. 

“Wang So,” Soo calls, under a cherry blossom tree, amongst all the people that passed them by. “Kiss me?” 

She doesn’t have to stand on her tiptoes; they both knew the distance by heart. Her hands reach as far as they can on his back, clutching the fabric of his blazer when he kisses her, a shiver running through her when his hand settles on the back of her neck. He kisses her like they’re the only people on the sidewalk, slow but intimate, until they’re out of breath, and then he kisses her again with a smile on his lips. Kissing her is his favorite pastime; he’s kissed her playfully, tiredly, passionately, and it always makes her giggle afterward. 

Maybe it’s what happiness feels like, kissing him. 

She’s willing to learn.

Thank you all that supported me in one way or another! As time passes, interests change and that’s natural, so I’m very grateful to those who are still with me, still willing to read what I have in my heart for So and Soo.

This particular story has a lot of me in it. It has my own Wang Wook, and although we can’t all find a Wang So to make the bad memories go away, time is on our side... And we move forward. We learn. And we trust and love again.

Until next time, moon lovers ♥

[shyjokester187-blog]

Growing up LGBT in the south

So, you must be reading this for a reason.  Inspiration?  Criticism?  Understanding? Whatever it may be; we all relate to the feeling of not being accepted.  Well, here’s my story:

 It all started as a four year old.  The pure innocence of a child watching “The Little Mermaid” while smelling mom baking a chocolate cake, and awaiting on the batter covered spoon to devour.  I began noticing Prince Eric wasn’t the one whom I got butterflies for.  It was Ariel herself.  Every time she would sing my heart would flutter.  I thought what I felt was normal, but being raised in a southern Christian home I was later informed otherwise.

 Not even a year later I began Pre-K.  There I met her.  Yes, her.  She approached this shy kid that just desired to be back home with her mother.  No one wanted to play with the “quiet weirdo”.  In my mind she became my girlfriend.  That’s what she was because she was nice to such an awkward kid.  I came home ecstatic.  I rushed to tell my mom I had myself a girlfriend.  She said, “A girlfriend?"  I agreed.  That’s where it all went down hill.  That’s when I was informed of my sin.  How innocently having a crush on a female was going to send me on my highway to hell.  

 After learning of the sin I committed I tried to steer far away from my feelings.  Then "she” happened.  That’s what I’ll call her.  I was fourteen.  A pale, short, skinny brace face.  She was my best friend.  I finally felt like I had a place in this world.  Then things took a turn.  When I’d walk her home it’d start with a slight hug goodbye.  Then the hugs became tighter; more affectionate.  Later, I would start to receive kisses on the cheek.  I began to panic.  How can this good little Christian girl still have these feelings?  I thought I prayed this sin away.  I go to church every Sunday and Wednesday night. How could I possibly feel this way?

 One thing lead to another, and she was who I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.  My family began questioning if she was gay because of how clingy she was towards me.  When we turned eighteen we were going to get a place together and live happily ever after.  Yeah, that’s what I thought until I learned the sad reality of what being an experiment was like.  She would inform me every week on who the “guy of the week” was.  Devastated wasn’t even the word.  This girl whom I’d given myself to was trying to date guys.  Wow.  So as my revenge I decided to start giving these guys a shot that had expressed some interest in me.  Little did I know I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone else but she could.  Long story short, things didn’t work out and I’m thankful they didn’t.

 Since she was out of the picture I was trying to cure my heartbreak with some male therapy.  Of course that’s what my family would want isn’t it?  To discover a strong Christian man that can support me.  I used them.  It was never fair to them that they were my cover ups, but I avoided being drug to the altar to get the homosexual demons prayed away. I was never happy with them.  This path lead me to the most unhealthy relationship I’d ever been in.

 I was at a Spaghetti dinner hosted by my honors chorus.  I was shy.  I didn’t socialize a lot because I was mainly surrounded by upper-classmen.  I showed up in my slouchy school hoodie to help serve everyone who attended.  Then “he” was there.  The only guy that would actually talk to me.  A football player, wrestler, track star, weight lifting champ, and was in honors chorus like me! He approached me and draped his arm over my shoulder.  I can’t recall the exact words spoken to me.  I just know by the end of the evening I offered him my phone number.

 Later that evening I receive a text that said, “Hi cutie ;-)”.  Wow, this is exactly what my mom would want.  I was excited.  Maybe I’d have a high school sweetheart and I’d be able to grow old with him, and share our love story with everyone.  Things happened so fast.  Now that I look back at it; it was too fast.  We started dating within a week of actually talking, and he was already trying to make sexual advances after two weeks.  I was ignorant for tolerating him.  I had no desire to be intimate.  I wasn’t attracted to him in that way.  Because I wasn’t ready (nor was I ever going to be) he began verbal abuse.  To the point he made me feel like nothing.  So I gave in.  I began sending the nudes he harassed me for, let him force himself on me; I was lifeless.  I was his toy.  Then one night he took it too far.  Decided he was ready to go all of the way.  He knew I didn’t want to.  We were alone, I went to the bathroom which was in a corner, and when I came out I was disgusted and scared.  He shut the door behind me, and began trying to wrestle me out of my pants while his were already down.  If I wouldn’t have acted like I thought I heard my sister coming into the living room I would’ve been a victim of rape.  

 Finally,  I became tired of being an object of foreplay and abuse.  I left.  Then the rest of my high school career was ruined.  Rumors were spread everywhere I looked.  His friends began to target me.  Until the day I walked across the stage to receive my high school diploma; I lived in an eight hour hell.

 Now, let’s finally discuss my longest relationship I ever held with a male.  A whole eight months.  We will call him Austin.  Anyway, he was the guy I was going tolerate enough to marry and start a family with.  He “looked” like the kinda guy my mom always pictured me exchanging wedding bands with.  About 5'11, brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin, soft spoken, and kind.  A very innocent guy.  Had never been intimate before, believed in Santa until he was around fifteen, and had a child-like demeanor.  Was’t exactly the kind of person I pictured spending my life with, but he’d have to do for the time being.  After eight months I couldn’t deal with him lying over small things, so I left.  Ironic, eh?  Seeing that I lied to myself for eighteen and a half years.

 For the next few months I would go on the occasional date here and there.  If my memory serves me right, I went on my last “straight date” the last week of December.  I was tired of lying to myself.  It was so draining.  I turned to social media to find someone like me.  Seeing that I’ve grown up in West Virginia and people in the LGBT community are few and far between.  All I wanted was a friend to talk to about how I felt.  All that would message me would be straight guys pretending to be lesbians to receive nudes.  

 After months of being on the app “Whisper” on and off I would meet the girl I’ve always dreamt of.  I’ve got to admit, I thought she was a Catfish.  It was too good to be true.  I had never gotten along with someone like I did her.  We would talk on the phone for hours.  Laughing, sharing aspirations, good and bad things about our work day, and just getting to know one another.  It was awhile before we were able to Skype.  She was shy.  That’s why I thought her actual looks might not match her pictures that were sent to me.  Boy, was I wrong.  She was as beautiful as ever.  Only downside was she was across the country.  Did I have my doubts at first?  Of course I did.  Now I couldn't be happier getting ready to marry my best friend.

[im-coming-to-you-live]

SpongeBob- Greying Gracefully

Yeah I keep forgetting I have a tumblr. Hey, this exists.

Greying Gracefully Summary: SpongeBob finds a grey hair and begins to worry about his premature aging. Rated: T for Teen; 13+ Characters: Squidward, SpongeBob, Sandy, Patrick, Mr. Krabs, Pearl, Gary Pairing(s): None Genre: Coming of age/ Friendship Word Count: 6, 058 Fic belongs to me.

SpongeBob Musical belongs to Kyle Jarrow (who wrote the book).

SpongeBob © Nickelodeon.

[X-posted from deviantART]

It was supposed to be the quintessential ‘’best day ever’’, like it was every morning. The sun was shining, and the hills were alive with the sound of music. Nothing could possibly ruin this most perfect of perfect days, that is, until SpongeBob spotted a lone grey hair, interloping among his platinum-colored tresses. His first instinct was not to panic. ‘Okay,’ he told himself, ‘No biggie. It’s only one. And hey, silver’s a pretty color, maybe no one will notice since my hair’s so light anyway,’ but when he went to go pluck it, he found another, and yet another, silver wisps upon silver wisps. He felt the color drain from his face, just as the color had from his hair. He tried to remain optimistic, but wasn’t he a little too young to be going grey? Now, at the age of 25, a few grey strands multiplied to what seemed like nearly a hundred, silently taunting him when he looked in the mirror as if to say, “You’re getting old. You’re getting old. You’re getting old.” He had never been one to fear the future. Rather, he looked forward to it. He looked forward to the day he would turn Squidward’s age and look wise and distinguished with all those lines chiseled into his face like the rocky mountains Sandy often spoke of after her trip to New Mexico last summer. Plus, Squidward’s grey scalp looked becoming to his natural sea-green locks. It reminded SpongeBob of fluffy clouds floating over the ocean surface. He looked forward to the day he would turn Mr. Krabs’s age and still look physically fit, with hardly a wrinkle albeit attractive smile lines, and a load full of pepper and salt chest hair. Yes, the older men in his life made him feel excited to grow old. ‘’To grow old,’’ he once remarked to their wrinkled noses, ‘’Would be an awfully big adventure.’’

‘’You have no idea, kid,’’ they both told him, but SpongeBob had to laugh. To his eyes, they both aged gracefully. But then again, he had never known them to be young. He remembered sauntering into Mr. Krabs’s office one day, only to find it empty. Instead, he found an old-fashioned picture frame stuffed into one of the desk drawers, face down. SpongeBob didn’t mean to pry but curiosity got the best of him, and so he lifted the picture frame from its hiding place and wiped away the dust which coated the glass with his sweater. He didn’t immediately recognize the young man in the black and white photo—handsome, with a strong resemblance to Mr. Krabs. It couldn’t have been, could it? SpongeBob remembered removing the photo from its frame and flipping it to the backside, but there was no date. It must have been taken around 1960-something. 1964  or '65 was his wild guess. Mr. Krabs was pictured in a Navy uniform, with inky black hair and a darker complexion than he sported now. He looked almost exotic, like Egyptian. For some reason, it was eerie and haunting. The man who went off to war would never return the same man he left.  Mr. Krabs never talked about it, but SpongeBob heard stories about what kind of man he was when he came home... Pearl’s grandmother had said she didn’t even recognize her own son. But Mr. Krabs seemed happy here, and so unaware of what was to come. The soldier smiled back at him as if he knew of his innocence. He seemed both eager for its loss and nostalgic for those few years of naiveté behind him. Deeper in the drawer, SpongeBob uncovered yet another photograph, this time of Mr. Krabs in full service dress, with his name tag centered on the right breast pocket. He wasn’t smiling in this one. Most soldiers wanted to escape the draft, probably the reason for him not following the rules (his cap was off, and his left hand was in his pocket, a rakish disregard for the regulation that a soldier in war could never, ever stick a hand in his pocket ).  The hand in the pocket was almost a silent rebellion. The pockets that were empty in the photograph would soon bulge with hand grenades, extra ammunition, food, and many of the gross of condoms they were issued before a combat jump. SpongeBob held these photos side-by-side to compare them. One soldier was happy. The other was not. They almost looked like two different people. But they were both Mr. Krabs, taken in a moment of time, months apart. Is this why he had locked them away? Could he not come to terms with his own aging that began in his mere twenties? And then there was Squidward. SpongeBob had visited his neighbor’s Eastern Island home one day only to find him hiding secrets, too. He had a library under the stairs—not nearly as impressive as SpongeBob’s but the porifera couldn’t resist—and when SpongeBob intruded when Squidward wasn’t looking, he found what appeared to be a high school year book on one of the shelves. ‘’Farlingaye High’’ it said on the cover. Inside, he found quite a few surprises. One Polaroid depicted Squidward entering his amateur piece into the school art show—he proudly held it up: a little painting of Neptune-knows-what. His mum stood beside him, beaming at her little artist son. Between her hands, she held his cheap plastic briefcase that carried all his books. It wasn’t a proper grown-up briefcase that a few of the brain-box nerds had inherited from their dads. Squidward had ‘’graffitied’’ his up a bit—but come to think of it, it was still pretty geeky. Squidward looked no different than he did now, except of course he didn’t have crow’s feet, and so SpongeBob couldn’t possibly mistake the identity. He was still tall and lanky, only this time with prominent buckteeth, bespectacled, spotty, and wore braces. He was nerdy but still charming. Actually, he kind of looked like SpongeBob. But something else was different about him. He looked genuinely happy, with the excited look of a child at Christmas in his eyes, an expression of innocent glee that SpongeBob had never seen in the older Squidward. The next Polaroid, with a stain in the right corner, depicted Squidward in a class photo, wearing a blue cardigan that his mother had probably knitted for him, and a shaggy Brady Bunch haircut that was popular at the time. Again, he looked happy. But then in his graduation photo, wearing his honorary cap and gown, his diploma in his hands, he had the all-too familiar stern look he had now. And he was only 18. What happened? ‘’ I hated German,’’ he remembered Squidward saying as he came into the library to find SpongeBob crouched over his yearbook. SpongeBob hurriedly tried to close the book and return it to its proper place, but Squidward didn’t seem to mind so much. He came up beside him and pointed at his young self and said, ‘’It was’t the subject, it was the incredibly dull, dull, dull teacher. I was always getting shouted at and sent out of the class for messing around. I was always mortified having to take that walk of shame to the door. I was such a loser. Y’know, I got picked on all the time.’’ ‘’Is that why you look so unhappy here?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’Yes,’’ Squidward admitted sadly, before realizing his error, and snapped, ‘’I mean no! I was itching to be done with school because, by about 13, I knew I wanted to go off to performing arts college, but I could barely afford it. Looking back, high school only lasted a few years! I should have relaxed and tried to enjoy and get more out of it.’’ And with that, he closed the book and shooed SpongeBob out of the library. He was never allowed to bring up Squidward’s high school days ever again. As SpongeBob studied his grey hairs in the bathroom mirror, he wondered what he would look like in twenty years, fifty. Seeing how rapidly Squidward and Mr. Krabs aged in their youth, when they were supposed to be in the prime of their life, he wondered what he would look like in only a few months from now. Would he forget how to smile? Would he be frowning on his 26th birthday? Was it possible to grow old before he reached 30? He didn’t mind getting old, it was inevitable, but he didn’t want to get old now. He sighed, and walking out of the bathroom, he found Gary sprawled out on his side on the bed, completely content. ‘’Gary, can I ask you an honest question?’’ The snail rustled, looking annoyed that he had been disturbed from his nap. When he finally focused his eyes on SpongeBob, he said, ‘’Do you think I look…old?’’ Gary took one look at him and replied with a sarcastic, ‘’Meow.’’ SpongeBob frowned. ‘’Gee, thanks. You’re a real pal.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’ I’m only 25! I found my first grey hair and I might be going bald.’’ SpongeBob complained as Squidward sat him down in a chair. ‘’Congratulations, you’re turning into me,’’ Squidward grumbled. ‘’You lost your hair at my age?’’ SpongeBob gasped. Squidward continued to stare at SpongeBob, not amused, then pointed to his hair, which, despite a receding hairline, he mostly still had. ‘’Gracious me, now where did all my hair go?’’ ‘’Did you check between your legs? That’s where most of my hair is.’’ Squidward slapped his forehead at such disbelief. ‘’You’re such a twit.’’ The boy shrugged. ‘’I dunno. I thought maybe it was a toupee.’’ ‘’Then yank on it.’’ SpongeBob did, reaching out to grab fist fulls of Squidward’s hair to see if it was really attached to his scalp, and it must have been, because he yelped, ‘’Ouch, not so hard, you prat!’’ and he shoved SpongeBob away. Yup, it was definitely real. And soft. Synthetic hair wouldn’t be that soft.   ‘’This is awful!’’ SpongeBob began to cry into his hands. ‘’Am I gonna be all white before thirty, Squidward?’’ ‘’Mellow fucking out, SpongeBob,’’ Squidward snapped. ‘’You’re still young. You have your whole life before you.’’ ‘’Before me?’’ he wailed. ‘’No, all is over for me! I’m dying!’’ Squidward rolled his eyes. ‘’I didn’t think you were so vain. Hey, is this the same guy who said growing old would be fun?’’ ‘’Yeah, but…I’m not old. I mean, I didn’t expect to be turning grey until twenty years from now,’’ SpongeBob said, wiping his eyes on his shirt. ‘’Exactly. You’re not old. Look, sometimes you get a few grey hairs here and there, doesn’t mean you’re aging.’’ ‘’Then what’s happening to me?’’ ‘’There’s nothing wrong with you…Well, alright, there’s a million things wrong with you but a grey hair or two is the least of your problems. You’re freaking out over nothing.’’ Squidward approached him, and then with a comb in tow, he parted SpongeBob’s blonde tresses to inspect the so-called ‘’damage’’. After a few moments of brushing through SpongeBob’s hair, he shook his head and said, ‘’Oh yes, this looks very bad.’’ SpongeBob felt his heart sink. ‘’How bad?’’ ‘’Very very. More serious than I thought. Tsk tsk. There’s a few more back here you didn’t catch. You poor ol’ chap. I suppose your entire head will be all white before thirty.’’ SpongeBob clutched his chest and moaned in fright at such dreadful news. But then he heard Squidward laughing. ‘’What’s so funny?’’ he demanded through the tears welling in his eyes. ‘’I’m just messing with you!’’ Squidward chuckled. ‘’Aside from a few grey strands, your head looks completely fine. Blonde as ever. And you’re not going bald, you have enough hair to make a wig for a grape!’’ SpongeBob stood from his chair and punched Squidward in the chest. He didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, not now in a time like this when he really needed his help. ‘’Oh c’mon, SpongeBob, it was a joke!’’ Squidward tried to reason, but SpongeBob wasn’t having it. ‘’If you’re not going to help me, I’ll find someone who will,’’ SpongeBob proclaimed as he made his way to the door. ‘’Can’t you see I’m ailing? You know what, Squid, you’re so full of—‘’ ‘’Alright!’’ Squidward cut him off. ‘’No need to get nasty. I’ll just cut the greys, and give you some coloring if you want. It’s what I use.’’ This didn’t ease SpongeBob’s worries. ‘’I’m going to have to color my own hair?’’ ‘’Look, it’s not going to turn grey overnight. Those few follicles that lost their pigment won’t affect the surrounding hairs. At most, those are the only grey hairs you’ll have for awhile. As you get older, it’ll get more grey. You’ll most likely still be blonde at thirty. It’s a gradual change, SpongeBob. You get used to it.’’ ‘’Were you greying at my age?’’ Squidward sighed. ‘’Younger than you, actually. In my late teens. You’re lucky. At least you’re almost thirty, in five years. For me, it was over by thirty. It runs in the family. My cousin’s been coloring her hair since she was twenty-two. I used to wonder what propelled my mother to keep her hair dark brown at sixty, when it long ago decided it wanted to be white at twenty-eight. But I’m just as guilty as her now. Truth is, it has very little to do with fear of aging and a lot more to do with an unwillingness to look and, some might say, act my age. I’m one of those people frequently mistaken for someone much younger, and I admit I like it. So sue me.’’ SpongeBob looked at Squidward’s glorious head of hair and couldn’t blame him. Aside from sporting a white skunk stripe down the middle, you couldn’t even tell he had been coloring his hair all these years, nor could you tell he was grey under all that natural looking turquoise. He didn’t even look old, even if he had kept his hair grey. SpongeBob came back to his chair and let Squidward cut out the grey hairs before the older man sent him home with hair dye and pre-shampoo conditioner to keep the coarse, wiry grey hairs moisturized and smooth when they grew back. SpongeBob was grateful to Squidward, but at the same time, he didn’t know if he was ready to start all the daily hair treatments of his 45-year-old neighbor. ‘Well,’ he thought, trying to cheer himself up, ‘I always did think we were something like brothers, but this isn’t quite what I had in mind.’ He began to fear the worst: What if he checked into a retirement home the same day as Squidward, while his younger looking, more vital friends—with their beautiful, un-grey hair—had to pay him burdensome visits? If people remarked that Squidward looked exceptionally young for his age, he wondered if he would begin to look too old for his age. Time for a second opinion.                                                                                  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Did I ever find a grey hair?’’ Patrick echoed the question as he tread into the kitchen for another grape soda. SpongeBob followed behind him, waiting for an answer. After Patrick opened a soda and handed it to SpongeBob he said, ‘’Nope, can’t say I ever had. But if I ever found a green hair, well, that’s a different story.’’ He opened another soda, took a sip, then continued, ‘’I tried to dye my hair blue once. It turned green for some reason. Or was it lilac? Actually, what is lilac? Is that, like, yellow?’’ ‘’Purple,’’ SpongeBob explained. ‘’Lilac’s purple, Patrick.’’ ‘’Purple Patrick, maybe that was it. Hey, I didn’t know there was a color named after me!’’ In spite of himself, SpongeBob had to laugh. Patrick always found a way to cheer him up. ‘’Yeah, no, about my question…so like, never ever?’’ ‘’What was the question again?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’’ ‘’If you ever found a grey hair?’ ‘’No, you.’’ ‘’Got it.’’ And Patrick took another lengthy chug from his soda, nearly emptying it. SpongeBob waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. He seemed to have forgotten what they were even talking about. ‘’Patrick?’’ ‘’Yeah?’’ ‘’Well?’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’Did you?’’ ‘’Did I what?’’ ‘’Find a grey hair?’’ He blinked, registering the question for a moment, then he suddenly seemed to comprehend. ‘’Oh right. No, I don’t think so.’’ ‘’Positive?’’ ‘’Affirmative. I mean, you can look if you want. Don’t think you’ll find anything.’’ With that, he bowed his head as low as possible, but SpongeBob still couldn’t reach so he grabbed a nearby chair and stood on top of it. But Patrick was right. As he sifted through his cotton-candy quiff, he didn’t see one hint of a silver strand. It was all beautifully bubble gum pink. SpongeBob felt a little jealous. Patrick was 28, and he hadn’t a single sign of greying anytime soon. He would probably still have pink hair at Mr. Krabs’s age. He sighed, and hopped off the chair. Patrick noticed his sour mood and asked, ‘’What’s wrong? It’s lice, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Huh? No, your hair looks fine. Great, actually.’’ ‘’Then what is it?’’ He rubbed his arm, and said, ‘’I...found a few grey hairs this morning.’’ ‘’Seriously? But you’re like, a baby!’’ Patrick joked. But SpongeBob wasn’t laughing. ‘’I’m serious.’’ ‘’Don’t worry about it, buddy. Sandy will know what to do,’’ he said, patting SpongeBob on the back. Sandy, of course. Why didn’t he think of it before? With that, he stood on his tiptoes to plant a kiss on Patrick’s forehead, but he couldn’t reach, so he kissed him on the cheek instead. ‘’Patrick, you’re a genius!’’ And he rushed to the door, but not fast enough in time, for he could hear Patrick angrily remarking as he left, ‘’What did I say?! Just ‘cause you’re turning old, don’t take it out on me! I was just trying to help! You know what, SpongeBob? Screw you! You’re a genius, and it’s showing too!‘’                                                                              *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ‘’Stress, genetics, B-12 deficiency…a lot of reasons people turn grey in their twenties,’’ Sandy explained. ‘’ When your body stops producing melanin, a pigment found in the hair follicle, your hair goes grey. Another factor that may contribute to grey hair is the buildup of hydrogen peroxide in the hair. As you grow older, the enzyme catalase that breaks down hydrogen peroxide diminishes. This leaves your hair bleached by hydrogen peroxide. But here’s what not to do: don’t pluck it. You’ll just go bald from all that trauma to your scalp. Use non-ammonia based color. All those chemicals ain’t healthy. Nutritionally focus on protein at breakfast and lunch—available energy to hair tissue is lowest in the morning, did you know that?--, keep hydrated and choose healthy snacks like yogurt, nuts and fruits. You can do all this, SpongeBob, but everyone’s different. You might be going prematurely grey and there’s nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept yourself and move on.’’ ‘’Squidward said it’s a slow change, is that true?’’ ‘’He’s right, I reckon,’’ she nodded. ‘’Why? Did he share with you a ‘going grey’ story?’’ SpongeBob just chewed his bottom lip, which caused Sandy to burst out in a hearty laugh. ‘’Hah! I knew he colored his hair!’’ ‘’Is that bad?’’ ‘’Nah,’’ she snorted. ‘’Half the population probably does. Y’know, I just thought of something funnier than all that.’’ ‘’What?’’ ‘’ Caucasians begin to grey in their mid-30’s, Asians in their late 30’s and African Americans in their 40’s, according to a 2011 research analysis published in The Dermatologist. On average, 50 percent of the population will have 50 percent grey hair by the age of 50. Gender seems to play a role as well: Men start greying closer to 30, while women begin to notice grey hairs around 35. So don’t worry about it. Even if you turn grey sooner than all’s the rest of us, give us five more years, and we’ll be greying together.’’ With that, she slapped her knee. She thought it was a riot, but SpongeBob failed to see the humor in all this. ‘’Patrick’s a little older than me, and he hasn’t found his first silvery strand yet,’’ SpongeBob admitted sadly. ‘’Everybody’s different,’’ she shrugged. ‘’But if you’re worried about your mortality, your hair’s got nothing to do with it. You’ll live long, still. You’re a sponge, for crying out loud.’’                                                                               *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * He hoped Sandy was right, but as he left her Treedome, he wondered if he would ever be able to accept himself someday with a head full of grey or white hair. Would he be like Squidward’s mother, and continue to color his hair well into his sixties? It was a ridiculous thought, having blonde hair at that age. But as he bumped into Mr. Krabs on his way to the Krusty Krab, he realized maybe it wasn’t so ridiculous. Mr. Krabs was about 70, he realized, and he sported bright red hair. But then SpongeBob suddenly recalled the old photograph of Mr. Krabs in his navy uniform, and though the picture wasn’t in color, his hair looked too dark back then to be red, or even a burnt auburn. Did he…? ‘’Boyo, didn’t see ya there!’’ Mr. Krabs bellowed. ‘’Hey, Mr. Krabs,’’ he solemnly smiled. ‘’Say, can I ask you something?’’ Mr. Krabs narrowed his eyes into slits and scrutinized SpongeBob like a fly on the wall. ‘’If you’re asking me permission to take out me darlin’, beautiful daughter, a teenager, mind, on a date—‘’ ‘’What? No, Mr. Krabs, I—‘’ But the expression on the retired vet’s face quickly changed into a friendly smile, and he rustled SpongeBob’s hair with his meaty claw to show he meant well. ‘’I’m just joshin’, lad, relax! Should’ve seen the look on yer face! Got ya, didn’t I?’’ and he chuckled his familiar sailor’s laugh. ‘’Yeah. Heh. You got me,’’ SpongeBob tried to laugh along. ‘’Look, Mr. Krabs, I just—‘’ But Mr. Krabs wasn’t listening. He got that look in his eyes that he often did when he thought of a brilliant business venture. SpongeBob knew it all too well, because he titled his head back and rubbed his chin in deep thought. ‘’Come to think of it, that’s not a half bad idea. Could get Pearly outta me hair for a few hours. That is, if ya don’t mind.’’ ‘’Sure, whatever, but—‘’ ‘’She’s been drivin’ me crazy, that kid! Y’know how much the phone bill was this month? Calling and texting! I swear, she’s as bad as her grandmother, she’s got that phone growing right outta her ear! I caught her talkin’ to some friend at two in the mornin’! Two! What’s with kids these days?’’ ‘’It’s a mystery,’’ SpongeBob agreed. ‘’Look, can I ask you—‘’ But Mr. Krabs cut him off again. ‘’She’s eatin’ me outta house and home! I can’t wait till she finds a nice man to settle down with and move out. Well, truth be told it breaks me heart to think of it. You try to hold them as long as you can, but then a day comes when they don’t want to be around you no more. SpongeBob, never have children. You’ll live longer. I’ve been going grey since the day she was born.’’ ‘’That’s what I want to ask you about.’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly snapped his head towards SpongeBob as a dark look crossed him. ‘’You’re poppin’ me the question, ain’t ya, laddy?’’ ‘’Huh? What are you even talking about?’’ Mr. Krabs slung a strong arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. ‘’You’re a nice kid, SpongeBob. I’ve always thought of you as the son I never had. But I don’t know if you’re right for Pearl. No offense. So before you ask, I just have to say one thing: you’re already part of the family, and if you think marrying me daughter is going to get you that promotion, then think again. Because family or no family, you’re just not manager material!’’ SpongeBob blinked, and then shook his head. ‘’It’s not about Pearl.’’ Instead of growing relieved, this seemed to anger Mr. Krabs even more. ‘’What? Now you’re saying you’re too good for me daughter?’’ ‘’No, Pearl’s fine, it’s just—‘’ ‘’Just fine, eh?’’ ‘’She’s great, okay?’’ ‘’She’s pretty, right? Prettiest in all the seven seas?’’ ‘’Yes, absolutely!’’ ‘’So you do fancy her?!’’ Finally, SpongeBob had to push against the crab’s chest to knock some sense into him. ‘’Mr. Krabs, will you just listen to me!?’’ ‘’You’re not poppin’ the question?’’ ‘’No.’’ ‘’What is it, kiddo?’’ Mr. Krabs inquired, finally calming down. ‘’Well, you see…you dye your hair, right?’’ Mr. Krabs suddenly looked self-aware and his claws went instinctively to his head. ‘’What makes you say that?’’ ‘’Well…don’t get mad at me…but a long time ago, I saw this picture in your desk…’’ ‘’Oh, that one. Well, the cat was bound to come outta the bag sooner or later.’’ ‘’So…you went grey after the war?’’ SpongeBob asked. ‘’It was a few years after the war, actually, but yes, eventually I greyed at fifty.’’ ‘’That’s normal, isn’t it?’’ ‘’Sure, but I didn’t want me old Navy buddies to see how much I aged. And so I tried to find a dye that matched me natural color, with no luck. Me hair, SpongeBob, was a dark oak brown back in the day. Hard to believe, no? At least I wasn’t balding, but me friends still had dark hair at me age and I felt ashamed. So I holed up on a small Greek island, hoping that I’d be able to find au nat-ur-al hair color. Turns out that the only Greek colorings available were all unnatural hues of red.’’ ‘’Didn’t your friends say anything?’’ ‘’Nah. Me new red hair blended in with me claws so much, they forgot how dark I used to be. Why’re you asking me all this anyhow?’’ ‘’Oh,’’ SpongeBob smiled, ‘’No reason.’’ Mr. Krabs wasn’t so sure he believed him, but decided not to ask any more questions. ‘’So you’re picking up me daughter at eight and bringing her back no later than 9:30.’’ It wasn’t a request, it was a command. ‘’Take her somewhere fun, and make sure she throws out that damn shell phone!’’                                                                                *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * Maybe it was common for forty-somethings to dye their hair, and though he didn’t mind coloring well into Squidward’s age, he didn’t know if he could keep that up until his seventies. If Mr. Krabs was still dyeing his hair at his age, SpongeBob wondered if he would ever be able to escape. When do you stop? He was reminded of a dinner party a few months ago, when he, Patrick and Squidward decided to have a date, only for Squidward to crash the party. He kept complaining about how lonely and depressed he was, and when SpongeBob asked him why, his response was, ‘’Have you ever had to bury your own mother at 24?’’ He deeply sighed and lamented how he wished he knew how to die. SpongeBob and Patrick of course dismissed such talk, as this wasn’t unusual for Squidward, but his words haunted SpongeBob in that very moment. Squidward didn’t know how to stop what had been started. That’s kind of how SpongeBob felt now about obsessing over his greying hair. No one tells you how—or when—you’re supposed to stop. Intellectually, he knew there would  be a day when he would no longer color his hair. But how do you know when that day is? Will it be when his children go off to college? After his youngest child’s wedding? At the birth of his first grandchild? Or would he be the little old man in the nursing home who, with his last dying breath, demanded that the hair colorist be brought in for a final touchup? He shivered at the thought. And here he always regarded the two men he looked up to the most, Squidward and Mr. Krabs, as having aged gracefully. But they were as obsessed with their own mortality and vanity as SpongeBob was now at 25. He didn’t want to be like that forever, especially not at their age. All that stress would cause him to grey faster. And so as he went to pick up Pearl that night from the Krabs’ residence, he knew a teenage girl may be his last hope. Squidward and Mr. Krabs’s ‘’going grey’’ stories only made him feel ridiculous. A young man such as himself shouldn’t be trying to make himself look younger as though he were 45 or 70, going through a pre-existential crisis. Patrick’s grey-free locks—at 28—only made him feel envious. And Sandy’s cut and dry briefing didn’t help much either. He didn’t need lectures or experiences to help him through this. He just needed to let loose. He was about to knock on the door when it opened for him, and there stood Pearl in the doorway looking stunning as ever. Her dark hair, which was usually elaborately coiffed at the side of her head, was now pulled back into a bun with a pink bow to tie it in place. She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater over a sundress, plum in color, her long skirt ruffling in the light breeze. A silver bracelet danced on her wrist as she raised her arm to greet him. It matched her gold lipstick. As she looked into his eyes and gave him an innocent, childish smile suitable for a six-year-old, especially with that beauty mark at the top corner of her lip, all the breath left his body. ‘’Hi, SpongeBob,’’ she said. ‘’Um, hi.’’ He was surprised he could still speak. Pearl was just a kid, but she was growing up fast. Mr. Krabs suddenly interrupted them, appearing behind his daughter. ‘’Remember, have her back no later than 9:30, or I’ll make sure you never grill a single Krabby Patty for the rest of yer miserable life.’’ ‘’Daddy, stop embarrassing me,’’ Pearl teased, and kissed him on the nose before she stepped out onto the porch. SpongeBob suddenly felt underdressed in his blazer and khakis. He wasn’t even wearing dress shoes. ‘’Make sure she has the best time of her life or yer fired!’’ Mr. Krabs exclaimed before closing the door.     ‘’He doesn’t mean it. You know he’ll never fire you,’’ she reassured him. ‘’I know,’’ he said. ‘’Um, I don’t drive, so we have to walk…if that’s alright. Or we can take the city bus.’’ ‘’Walking’s fine. It’s nice tonight, huh?’’ and she stepped off the porch, waiting for him to follow. ‘’Say, I’m going for my boating license soon. If I get mine before the next date, we can take a drive down at the beach.’’ Next date? He hoped she didn’t think they were going steady, or was only using him to impress her friends because she had a 25-year-old ‘’boyfriend’’. He hoped she knew this was just a favor for her father, although he liked her well enough, but truthfully, she was just too young. Once they got to ground level, SpongeBob realized she wasn’t wearing her usual platform sneakers, but instead, she was wearing flats, perhaps in an attempt to make him feel taller and less awkward. ‘’So where’re taking me?’’ she asked, as she fished for her shell phone in her purse and began to text someone. He eyed her, hoping she wouldn’t be more interested in the phone than in him through the course of the night. ‘’Sssh,’’ she said, putting a finger to her lips when she noticed his look, ‘’Daddy tried to hide my phone but that’s why I always keep a spare. If he finds out I have this, I’m grounded until I graduate college.’’ SpongeBob shrugged. ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t.’’ She laughed. ‘’I always thought you were weird, but you’re kinda cool, SpongeBob.’’ He laughed too, and for the first time all day, he forgot about his dilemma. He looked at Pearl again, in her Maybelline cat eye, and avant-garde chandelier earrings, and wondered if she would ever worry about aging. She didn’t seem to worry about anything. Even though most teenagers never thought too far down the road—he knew at Pearl’s age, he didn’t; he never thought he would ever get old—she didn’t seem the type to develop a keen appreciation of head scarves to hide eventual hair loss, and who would learn the lesson of never traveling without an emergency box of hair color. ‘’Hey, Pearl—‘’ She closed her phone and excitedly remarked, ‘’So I just texted my friend and she said there’s this swanky new joint in town, some new Tiki bar that just opened up! Wanna go?’’ ‘’You’re not the legal drinking age,’’ he pointed out. ‘’I’ll get in trouble if—‘’ ‘’I won’t tell if you won’t,’’ she shrugged. She grabbed him by the hand and they walked towards the direction of the bar. ‘’So, SpongeBob, you were going to ask me something?’’ ‘’Um, yeah. I just…see…it’s complicated…’’ he stopped in his tracks, and when she tried to pull him, he wouldn’t budge. ‘’Who died?’’ she asked. ‘’My hair.’’ ‘’Your hair?’’ ‘’I found a grey hair this morning.’’ She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘’Rough. Hey, aren’t you only 25?’’ ‘’Yeah.’’ She approached him and, with a mischievous grin, she lightly poked his chest. ‘’Oh c’mon, you’re SpongeBob, you’re, like, supposed to be the happiest dude in Bikini Bottom! Do you think one little grey hair is gonna get him down?’’ SpongeBob looked at her, trying to smile, but it pained him to do so. ‘’I’m not always as happy as everyone thinks. I was like you yesterday. So full of life. Now I know how Squidward feels. Someday, it’s all over.’’ ‘’Nothing lasts forever,’’ Pearl said. ‘’If it did, they’d make permanent lipstick that didn’t fade throughout the day, am I right? But you don’t see me crying about it. That’s what the powder room’s for.’’ ‘’Yeah, I guess you’re right.’’ ‘’Let me tell you a story.’’ He sighed. ‘’I think I’ve heard enough today.’’ ‘’No, just listen. See, when I was a little girl I used to love playing with my grandma’s hair. It was pure white, like snow. I thought it was so pretty. I asked her, ‘Grandma, when I’m your age, will I have long flowing white hair someday?’ I wanted to know how the world saw her and how she saw herself. I also asked why she decided to stop coloring her hair and was shocked to hear that she never colored in the first place. That generally leads to mental calculations about how many schools could have been built with what people spend in pursuit of avoiding grey hair. The moral of the story is, SpongeBob, my grandma wasn’t ashamed of aging. Once she started going grey, that was it. She just let it happen. I always wanted to be like her. And even though I’m wearing make-up now, I know someday I’ll think it’s silly. All I know is, when I’m old, I’m gonna have white hair, and rock it like there’s no tomorrow. Who cares what people think? In my opinion, I think it’s childishly stupid that my dad doesn’t let his hair grey naturally. I think he looks better grey, the handsomest man in this little town.’’ She playfully nudged his shoulder when she finished. He listened to her story, and realized she was right. It’s going to happen someday. You can’t avoid it forever. Might as well throw caution to the wind, and whatever happens, happens. He smiled. He couldn’t believe he was taking advice from a 16-year-old girl, but she had a profound wisdom beneath all that typical adolescence. ‘’You know what, Pearl? You’re right.’’ ‘’Amen, lil’ brother!’’ she laughed, and held up a hand for a high-five. He returned the gesture and said, ‘’Amen, lil’ sister.’’                                                                                Fin

[wish4youff]

04 ~ Gloomy

King 

How could you prepare yourself to celebrate the birth and life of your savior, Jesus Christ, and worship the ground he walks on, for an entire day, when all you could think about was the hell you’ve been through? All the hell you’ve caused on innocent families. There hasn’t been much of a prideful moment in this life. Sure, there’s the achievement plaques, diplomas, awards, and physical growth that your family boosts and praises you about, but what about the deep down ugly truth that no one can handle to know. And if you knew that person, they’re gone now.

To know I have part in that, it breaks my heart. Then, there’s a segment of my mind that knows me well enough to know………I wouldn’t want anything else in the world. My mother always told me as a child that whatever you love to do, it’ll find its way into your life. As either your pride or your biggest regret. I decided to take the easiest way out, making it easy for myself. Easier for others. Caroline Vitale knew what she wanted out of life, and even though that was short-lived, I knew she didn’t regret one attribute of it. And she won’t want that for her son.

Kneeling, I gripped the natural blue colored roses tighter in my hand, staring down at the gray-marbled tile of the tombstone. The words; “Never forget those who fought for your life…” drawing my attention each time, no matter how much I’m here. At the age of thirteen, I didn’t understand those choice of words.

My father hated them, but my grandfather served as the last say so. Neither of them cared to explain to me.

Softly placing them down, my hand lingered for a moment, my eyes and nose burning with emotion as I thought of the years we once shared with another. This woman should’ve been there through thick and thin, cherish me, gave me the light in my darkness, and most importantly loved me; prepping me to love my own wife and protect my own family. Instead, the hate of family killed her soul before she could even leave this earth.

“It seems like every time I come here the weather is horrible, it’s always drizzling, and the clouds are dark and heavy,” Shaking my head, my attention transferred to the sky above me; for a second I wondered if this was my destiny – regardless of my wants and what I believe are my needs. God knows I pray for a change. “It’s been almost a year since I was here and sadly enough nothing has changed. I’m still working under Pop’s demand. Killing and serving. I remember you telling me to be something unique. Take on a new road and be a man of my own light….and yet, here I am. I just hope I didn’t disappoint you too much. You probably tired of me saying that, but….”

25, December 2003.

"I’m heading to Miami after this for a job and I have this heavy gut feeling. Sometimes going to go wrong, I don’t know what, but something. I’m hoping it’s just my mind, but you know how that goes. Stephen says it’s important I go through with it, yet I can’t forget. I hate Miami you know? I hate New York too, I’ve spoken about that before. But Miami? Miami took you away from me. I don’t even speak with our family down there anymore. I rather isolate myself forever than be the topic of pathetic conversations. I still remember your sister’s words the day of your funeral. Maybe she spoke out from a place of hurt, but I would never. Ever do something like that. That amount of pain has caused something damaging inside of me. Me and Ibrahim, my homeboy from Harvard, we were talking about me going to see a therapist. I thought about, but you know how that goes.”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes for a brief second, stopping the tears from dropping.

“Sometimes I believe it’s your fault, you know? The reason I can’t allow myself to open up to others like normal people. It’s because you left and now I’m here, stuck to raise myself. Having a military brat, government manic as a fucking father. I remember questioning God, wondering why he left me with Stephen and allowed you to leave me. Half of me knows it was bound to happen. I hid behind my mother to protect me from everything. You knew me like the back of your hand. Even as a teenager I wasn’t allowing myself to know the man who made me. All I knew was he was a heartless person. Now I’m alone, speaking to the spirit of you and praying on an empty wish that you’re listening to your only child.”

Something moved out the corner of my eyes, naturally I kept my attention on the tombstone. I wouldn’t look to see what it was. I’ve always been afraid of the dead. Funny huh? Afraid of the dark even more. I couldn’t sleep without the slightest amount of light. My father would call me a wimp while my mother justified it with normal child behavior. Just to prove to Steepen I was a “man”, I forced myself to sleep without any light, and before long I was numb to; no longer caring.

“Recently I ran into someone from past. Well, a connection of hers. You don’t know her, I don’t talk about her aloud. But Stephen does. Olivia Smith, Chrissie younger sister. The last I seen of her was a young fifteen, maybe sixteen, year old girl who was struggling between letting her sister be happy yet not knowing who she would lean on if her only sibling and love one was gone. Knowing Chris as well as I do, I know the effect she has on people. Knowing if you were around, you’ll have encouraging words for me.”

Standing up, I looked back at the sky. That figure moved again forcing me to see the last person I anticipated here. Stephen, standing a clear distance, but close enough for me to make out who it was. He’s braver than me. I’ll be running from this place if I was him.  

"I love you, ma.” Saying my last words, I stared back at her grave for a few seconds, mentally praying for courage to continue my life, a life she would want me to keep pushing through.

Chrissie 

“I think this color would be perfect for you, Chrissie. Red seems to be in too.”

The sounds of Keyshia Cole’s Love Letter featuring rapper Future played through my Beats Pill XL speaker off the random Pandora station of Olivia’s choice. My humming stopped as my sister held up the hot red polish. Looking down at my nails, I simply shook my head with a slight smirk.

The sound of the oven timer caught my attention pulling me away from the conversation. My sister knows me better than anybody. Nude and baby pinks are my go to colors, always have been. Once inside the kitchen, I grabbed my oven mitts to take out the leftover pizza from the night before. It didn’t take her long to follow behind, grabbing two oversized pans we would use whenever eating pizza. With six slices warmed and hot, Liv separated the food, while I got myself a bottle of Dasani water.

“I mean I need to get a fill, but I’m not trying to be all bold and new. Something simple is fine.” I finally said, adding fuel to the fire she was already burning underneath my behind.

I loved my sister, we had our moments, but we were all we had also, so those tempting moments could never overshadow. Our parents passed away when we were young, Liv was only ten at the time and I was fifteen. I had more understanding and maturity to the situation; helping to open my eyes for her and I, knowing they wouldn’t want us to deter.

Every weekend she’s here. Or either I’m at her house. Never sleepovers because she literally lives five minutes away and unlike myself Olivia has been in a committed relationship for over four years so I try not to take too much of her time away from her fiancé; Travis.  

“Maybe bold and new is what you need though Chris. Switch it up. I already told you to dye your hair.” Relaxing in the couch, I shook my head, picking up a piece of the cheesy goodness.

“Nails is one thing, but hair……no.”

“I did it.” Olivia replied quick, and I should’ve known that would be her response to this.

During her senior year of high school Olivia came to me with the idea of red or either blonde hair; as the supporting sister I am, and only sister I agreed. Mostly because I didn’t believe she would go through with the idea. Our mother was a natural redhead woman, while our father was full on African-American. Liv took more of the red shade, while I was jet black, so there was no reason for a darker shade, in my opinion. Plus, it took over a week for her to actually dye it. When she finally came home with the red hair, I was stunned, relieved, and even happy for her. It looks good. On her.

“I’ll try the nail polish, but that’s it.”

I could already hear her next question.

“When?”

“Next week, Wednesday. Christmas visitors and those last-minute shoppers will have the roads filled so I’ll do it early in the week.”  

“Good because I want to come. Plus, I need to get a few things myself. Travis’ mother and father is coming in for Christmas this year and I wanna make a good impression.”

“Olivia, really? Y’all been together for four years. And you’re a good girl, I’m sure they’ve seen this quality about you. Don’t go out buying unnecessary things and being extra just because his parents are coming into town. They’ll know.”

“Shut up,” Laughing I shrugged my shoulders at her words. “I’ve never stayed in the house with them and they have never been over to our house for no more than a couple hours. They’re staying the night! I have to make a good impression.”

“Again, no you don’t, not now. By now? His mother has read you and knows exactly what kind of woman she’s dealing with, maybe even his father, but surly his mother. From the moment, he started to bring you around, she knew. And more importantly, don’t wait unless last minute to do your shopping. She’ll know that too.”

“You know this how? You’ve never had a long-term mother-in-law. Matter-a-fact, you never had a mother-in-law.”

“This is why.”

After a few seconds, there was no response and I drifted my attention to the television. Over the years, I’ve let myself out there and experimented with relationships. Small dates her, buddies there, but nothing ever too serious. My sister considered therapy and when I asked why, she changed the subject. Part of the reason is my career; other half is time-management.

“You know we never discussed me seeing Kingston that day.”

Yeah, that.

“What’s to talk about? You ran into King. Next topic.”

“Cut the bullshit. I know there has to be some kind of emotion there. And if not, you need to seek some mental help for real,” Snapping my head in Olivia’s direction, she held up her hand, stopping me from protesting. “Because you’re forcing yourself to block out past experiences instead of dealing with them.  I get you two left off on bad blood, what I don’t understand is why you can’t talk about it. Even as your sister, you keep me in the dark. That half of me that wants to keep you happy, knows you know what you’re doing as a woman, but damn. I can tell from how every time his name has come up your entire body language changes.”

“Kingston is……..Kingston. There’s no way to explain it. We were friends,” I started off with.

“And nothing else?”

“No. We were friends. Strictly friends, he wouldn’t even cross that line with me.”

“Why not?” Looking at Olivia, I could only wonder myself.

“Kingston had his way of doing things. He spoke when he wanted to. Interacted when he wanted to. Partied when he wanted to. If the situation didn’t fit his vibe, he didn’t go through. And mind you this was in college. I could only imagine what the man is like now.”

“Well, you know I only know the man you randomly speak about, but he seemed nice that day in the deli. I didn’t notice him at first, but he knew me.  When he said your name, it was like something clicked, making me remember him.”

“Trusts me when I say the man is bad news for me. And vice versa.”

“You’re bad for someone?”

“For him, hell yeah.”

And with that, luckily, she dropped the topic. That was enough for a day.

[sschmendrick]

And it's done ! I don't know if I'll work more on it, I'm afraid I'll spoil whatever I managed to do.

And while we're at it why not a little bit of backstory ?

So I've been a fan of horse since I was very young thanks to my two brothers riding horses before me. When we were young it was easy to go to my grandparents house that was near an equestrian centre. We want almost every weekend ! It was paradise. It also meant I had to have good grades and be a good kid for my parents to allow us to go. At that point only one of my brothers still rode with me and he wasn't affected by whether we went or not.

Anyways, when we grew up I had to stop and we would only go on big holidays. I still loved it and I had a best friend that did too. (For context I live in Paris so there wasn't any stable nearby). I had a dream for years, it was to have my own ranch and just breed horses or have some sort of reserve. My parents didn't like the idea much and often mocked me by saying that it was impossible or I'd have to marry a farmer. Although my mother was a little bit supportive she didn't want me to go in a bac pro (in France it's a high school diploma but it's specialised and professional one. You don't pursue more studies with it, you already start working). I don't blame her, what mother wouldn't be scared that their kid won't have a job if they don't have the highest degree. At least in France anything under a master degree is looked down upon.

When I started high school, through my grandpa being a soldier, I could attend the military school for riding lessons (it was a part from high school. The military school is a sort of university for future soldiers or mounted police forces). It felt good to be on a horse again but it was really not how I liked riding horses. I missed the green pastures and the long walks through nature, the camping and spending as much time as you wished in the stables, cleaning, tending to the horses etc. So after one year I left (and a lot of other stuff happened in my life which made it CHAOS but it's the same for everyone).

Last summer I had the great opportunity to ride again on our cousins's horses and though it was in an enclosed space (after all there was really no security or else and my brother had to go back to dance school in one piece so we did nothing fancy) but it felt so good. I really miss being on a horse.

I want to so many horse fairs in France ! I even met Andy Booth (well I didn't talk to him but I attended one of his demonstration in a fair). I was fascinated by how he interacted with animals. I was also fascinated by the bond between Native Americans and horses (well at least what was mediated in magazines I don't claim to know anything for sure). I wanted to work on a farm but I couldn't.

Wow this got long...anyway, I always wanted to go to the us and work as ranch hand but I'd need to learn more practical skills because I've always lived in the city and my horse riding skills are very rusty (especially if we go for western riding style). But still, I hope one day to be able to do it. Maybe settle down somewhere, have my horse and work. (I remember I used to look in magazines the properties for sale in France but also in Canada since it was bigger and I'd have more space to create my ranch. I was silly and 13). Sorry for the extra long post. That wasn't really necessary but now you know, if it's in any way a comforting prize for reading through all of this. Sorry...

I'm going to try my luck and try and draw something. I'm feeling really down, I hope it will help.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Kim Soohyun, spotted prancing about in the Southwest Side. I don’t remember seeing him with any clique back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say unassuming and nonchalant? Apparently now he spends time as a designer/architect at Looking Glass Inc., and keeps skeletons buried at Prague Tower, 001. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Lover Boy; we missed you so.

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

One way to describe Soohyun back in high school was in the middle. He was the kid who neither sat all the way in the front, nor all the way in the back. He wasn’t even smack in the middle, he was just off to the side, a bit. He never really raised his hand, just minded his own business and aced his tests. He wasn’t especially close with anyone, but he wasn’t aloof. He was, as always, in the middle. He was friendly, but didn’t have friends. Most people said it was because his mother had such high expectations of him, the only friend he could have was her satisfaction. His reputation neither preceded him nor was he invisible. If you said his name, one would definitely remember the ever calm, ever collected Soohyun. He wasn’t quite class valedictorian, something you had heard his mother was very upset about, but was 3rd in line for the title. After graduation, well, you didn’t hear much about him, other than that he eventually joined his mother’s company as an architect. Wait. The Soohyun you remember had majored in business, hadn’t he? Perhaps you thought wrong, but you were so sure…

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

There’s something about Soohyun. Something about the way he studies everything before forming his thoughts together. It’s like he has a counter on the amount of words he can use in a day. You wouldn’t be surprised. His mother was so controlling that you figured she probably granted him an allowance. Yet, he’s different from high school. Somehow, he seems to be even more guarded. You might not remember him so well from high school, you were never close. Then again, he was never close with anyone. You can’t put your finger on it, but he’s different. It’s the way he studies you, as if analyzing who you are because he doesn’t remember you. But, upon conversation, he remembers you. Or rather, about you. About high school.

Maybe what’s different about him is his prominence. In the posh neighborhoods of Seoul, his mother’s company has stamped almost every part of the city and Soohyun’s hand has graced the architecture of all those fancy cafes everybody and their mother love to frequent. Other than that, he’s a relatively private person, pretty much what you remember of him. How much can a person change after high school, after all?

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

Now, here’s the truth. Soohyun is not… Soohyun. The man behind the name Kim Soohyun grew up in New York City with the name Simon Kim. Why, you ask, does he look exactly like Kim Soohyun? Well, you see, identical twins have a tendency to look alike. And that, my dear Watson, is the case here. Twins, separated in their childhood, blah, blah, blah. How many times have you heard that one? Well, hear this story out. Mama Kim was only about 20 years old when she had those two beautiful baby boys, Sehyun and Soohyun, and she was scared. Scared to raise these two babies on her own, so, she did the only thing she could. She sent one of her boys to New York to live with her elder sister and her husband, to grow up away from his birth mother and brother with the name Simon. And so, life went on. Mama Kim, detached from one child, held desperately onto the other. Think Norma Bates-esque controlling, minus the murder. All she wanted to do was make it with her baby boy.

And so began Looking Glass Inc, a major step for the young single mother. It started out with decorating cafes and helping businesses flourish. She had a knack for it, she knew what people wanted and how they wanted it. And so, the business grew, and with it, their family name. To be a single mother and attain this sort of financial growth, to have the money but not the prestige, she became known as the Gatsby of Garosu-gil. That didn’t prevent Soohyun from going to all the best schools, after all, he made the grades for them, of course with a lot of encouragement from his mother. There was one thing she always said, something along the lines of, “We wake up every day to present a perfect self.” And that is certainly what Soohyun did, anything to please his mother. After all, she was all he had. High school was difficult. He had no time for friends, all his time and effort went into training under his mother’s company and studying. He couldn’t risk ruining their reputation by joining any cliques. Also, one other thing. He couldn’t come out of the closet. If there was one thing that Kim Soohyun had known with absolutely surety, it was that he was gay. He longed, but never more than that. Korea was not the place for a teenage boy to be who he was, especially if who he was was gay and his mother’s son. And so, he suffered silently.

Soohyun never knew his brother. He never even knew he had one. And he never will. He just always felt like something was missing, and he was right. Partially, it was the ambiguity of the life his mother led, he knew so little about her, and thus, so little about himself. He had heard about an aunt that had died while he was in high school, but never more than just a few words about how they were never close. Soohyun couldn’t imagine having a sibling and not being close. There was nothing he wouldn’t give up to have one. But he didn’t have one, at least to his knowledge, and so, he did give up. Maybe it was being in the closet, knowing that he would stand behind that door for the rest of his life. Maybe it was the ever increasing pressure from his mother. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent 9 months growing next to a being he didn’t know existed.

But, thousands of miles across the ocean, one spring day, Simon Kim felt pain in his chest. It didn’t last long, but it was a sort of pang in his heart. He was in art class at the time, finishing up a piece for his senior portfolio. No one else felt anything, just him, in the studio with a half-finished canvas in front of him. That was the moment that he lost a piece of him he didn’t know about. That was the moment his brother had took his own life.

What came next changed his entire life. He met a woman who claimed to be his mother, and while she looked a lot like the woman Simon knew was his mother, he also knew that his mother had been in a coma since last year. Just graduating high school with no money to pursue design school, he almost had nothing to lose letting this woman into his life. That is, until he lost himself.

The next few years, Simon spent excelling in university, especially in the aspect of design. His “mother” couldn’t be more happy. She funneled money into his education and the two grew closer. While she could never be his mother in the same aspect, she had a place in his life now.

It was the moment he laid his eyes on his diploma when he knew something was wrong. He knew his birth records had his Korean name, so he wasn’t surprised upon seeing a Korean name on his forms. The name just wasn’t his. But, at this point, Kim Sehyun didn’t exist anymore. Just Kim Soohyun. At least that’s what Mother said. That’s when the truth finally came out. She didn’t come for him to take care of her sister or him. She came because she needed a replacement, one she had conveniently birthed years ago.

So. Why does Kim Soohyun live in Seoul? Because, if he didn’t listen to Mother and be a good boy, he would lose the only woman he knew to be his mother. Mother pays the medical bills, keeping Simon’s mother alive, and in exchange, Simon plays house. The risk is high, but at this point, this is the life Simon knows belongs to him, and one day, he is certain that he will take back what is his.

[heathershomilies]

Before we go any further, I should note that I am unapologetically pro-choice. I’ve been pro-choice for as long as I can remember. I recall thinking women should be able to have an abortion, if they want one, when I was just eight year old (1972-73).

(New Zealand’s Contraception, Sterilisation, and Abortion Bill was making its way through parliament at the time. It was naturally controversial, and was in the news a lot. Thus, I was aware of the issue.)

As far as I’m concerned, if you oppose abortion, don’t have one. That’s your choice. But you don’t, or at least you shouldn’t, have the right to tell someone else what to do with their body. Even worse, you shouldn’t have the right to force your beliefs onto another person. I think it’s appalling that there are actually laws that make abortion illegal in so many countries.

(One of those countries is my own: New Zealand. However, there’s a criteria allowing abortion in our law that almost all doctors interpret extremely liberally. As a result, abortion is freely available in our public hospitals. Further, a separate privacy law introduced in the 1980s specifically states parents do not have to give permission, or receive notification, in relation to contraception or abortion for minors.)

When I was a child, it just seemed fair to me. As I got older, and got to know more about the subject, my position became stronger and stronger. My opinion is now supported by multiple data, much of which I hope to cover in this post.

Now, on with the show.

  Abortion and US Law

In 1973, in a Supreme Court ruling known as Roe v. Wade, US women had their right to an abortion established by law. However, ever since there have been attempts to get that right taken away again. Republicans have adopted this cause as their own. Thus where they control the state government (red states), women’s right to an abortion is more at risk.

Four years after Roe v. Wade, a law known as the Hyde Amendment came into being. It meant that federal money could not be spent on abortions except in the cases of rape, incest, or if the life of the mother was in danger.

This is obviously an absolute disgrace for multiple reasons, but there are two that I think are the more important than the others.

1. The Most Vulnerable Will Be Affected the Most

Firstly, it means that if you’re vulnerable in any way, it’s much harder to get an abortion. So this law disproportionately affects women of colour, young women, those with a disability, etc. In short, those women who, in general, will have the most difficulty caring for a child. (Women who can afford to do so will simply go to another state to have their abortion.) It means many women will either be forced to continue with a pregnancy which may be physically or mentally dangerous or, in their desperation, they will feel forced to resort to dangerous abortion methods.

Some lawmakers, in their complete lack of compassion or understanding, have even introduced laws to make having an abortion first degree murder. For example, Vox reports that Texan Republican state legislator Tony Tinderholt has introduced a Bill there that would introduce the death penalty for women having abortions. Vox reports he, ” says it would make people “consider the repercussions” of having sex.

2. The Effect on Women’s Health Service Providers e.g. Planned Parenthood

Secondly, the Hyde Amendment makes providers of women’s health services, like Planned Parenthood, vulnerable to attacks from anti-choice activists.

Planned Parenthood receives half a billion dollars a year from the federal government to help fund the multiple health services they provide, mostly to women. However, anti-choice activists represent them as doing nothing but abortions and are constantly calling for their funding to be taken away. They’ve even had success in some red states in relation to that.

The reality is that only three percent of Planned Parenthood’s services relate to abortion. Further, the money they get from the federal government, while significant, only accounts for around 40% of their funding. All anti-choice activists do when they deny Planned Parenthood funding is ensure women, especially those who are poor or otherwise vulnerable, have less or no access to healthcare.

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(Planned Parenthood graphic. Sourced via NPR)

Anti-choice activists know this, of course, but they don’t appear to care. Some even freely admit that they’ll do whatever it takes to get a win for their cause. Anti-choice activists call themselves pro-life (and I’ll get to why that’s a myth later), but some won’t even condemn the extremists within their movement who go so far as the murder of abortion providers. In fact, a small number not only endorse violence and murder, they raise money to support those who carry out such acts. Their opinion is they’re committing justifiable homicide. In the US at least, they’re almost exclusively conservative Christians, whose interpretation of the Bible is that God opposes abortion.

  The USA Wants Roe v. Wade to Remain the Law

In the past, the US Supreme Court (SCOTUS) has been a reflection of US society. When the issue of same-sex marriage came before them, for example, they were in large part reflecting the changing views of US society in making it legal.

Therefore, if any cases relating to abortion make it to the Supreme Court, abortion should remain legal too. According to Pew (their emphasis):

About six-in-ten U.S. adults (58%) said in a 2018 survey that abortion should be legal in all or most cases, compared with 37% who said it should be illegal all or most of the time. Public opinion on this question has been relatively stable over more than two decades of Pew Research Center polling, and there is little difference between the views of men and women.

Further:

When it comes to the Supreme Court’s landmark 1973 ruling, about seven-in-ten Americans (69%) said Roe v. Wade should not be completely overturned, according to a survey conducted in late 2016.

Into the Weeds

There are demographic differences, all of which readers can probably predict:

1. Democrats are more likely to think abortion should be legal than Republicans.

2. The more educated you are, the more likely you are to think Roe v. Wade should not be overturned.

62% of those with a high school diploma or less; 70% of those with some college education; 74% of those with a college degree; 88% of those with a post-graduate qualification.

think Roe v. Wade should not be overturned,

3. The only area of the country where a majority think abortion should be illegal is the Bible Belt.

  Abortion and the Republican Party (GOP)

The US Republican Party (GOP) has always been anti-abortion. Its official platform on abortion doesn’t even make exceptions for rape, incest, or the life of the mother.

In the past, their attempts to completely take away a woman’s right to choose have been unsuccessful. There has been a lot of success in states that Republicans control though, making it more difficult for women to exercise that legal right. However, the election in 2016 of a misogynist who cares more about the anti-abortion Evangelical Christians that cheer him on than the wishes of the majority of his citizens is a worry for all of us who care about women’s rights.

Donald Trump and Abortion

Before he was a Republican politician, most of Trump’s views were more progressive. There was a time when he was pro-choice. But now that he needs to appeal to far-right Christian conservatives, that’s what he’s doing. During the 2016 election campaign, he was even heard to call for the punishment of women who have an abortion, just like the Christian abortion extremists he’s trying to appeal to.

Those in the Republican party who are anti-choice are taking advantage of having a sympathetic ear in the White House. As a result, they’re having some success in their moves towards making abortion illegal again.

A safe, legal abortion is a choice that should be available to all woman when faced with an unplanned pregnancy, or one that she doesn’t want to go ahead with because of the risk to her’s or the future child’s health or life. But, following the election of Donald Trump, that choice is increasingly at risk.

Why is Trump Supporting a Position a Majority Don’t?

President Donald Trump is a populist, and normally he attempts to appeal to the majority. However, abortion is different, for reasons I will get to.

Trump’s approval rating hasn’t made it to 50% the entire time he’s been in office. It’s never even been above his disapproval rating. He personally feeds off rallies where as many as tens of thousands act as if he’s a rock star, but those crowds are not a true reflection of the US population.

Trump Job Approval (Source: Gallup. Click graphic to go to source.)

  Trump knows deep down that his win wasn’t down just to those Evangelical Christians, or even to a majority of USians. Help from the Russians in three key states was what got him into the White House. (The Weekly Standard article: ‘The Election Came Down to 77,744 Votes in Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, and Michigan’ lays the details out clearly.) Within the White House, staff know not to mention things like Russian interference in the 2016 election in front of Trump. He appears to view mere mention of the topic the height of disloyalty. Staff even warn others not to bring the subject up in front of him.

Therefore the few policy positions Trump and his enablers stick to fall into two areas. They’re either favourable towards Russia (e.g. GOP Senate leader Mitch McConnell has gone so far as to block bipartisan legislation to stop Russian interference in the 2020 elections), or are those Evangelical Christians support. Opposition to abortion, of course, falls into the second of those two categories.

  State’s Rights

Living in a country that doesn’t have separate states, I’ve always had difficulty understanding the issue of state’s rights. I’ve never seen the point of it. In the past I’ve thought of that as simply a lack of cultural understanding on my part. More and more though, I’m starting to see it as a dangerous way to run a country. (It’s not only the US where I see problems. Catalan independence in Spain, and the use of Sharia in Aceh province in Indonesia, are two other examples.)

(Source: Wikipedia. Click graphic to go to source.)

There are several areas where I see having separate states with separate laws causing problems in the US. This is not the place to go down that rabbit hole, but for me one of them is the effect on women’s rights. It is already appalling that women have less rights than men in what is supposedly the world’s leading democracy. What’s even worse is that women in some states have even less rights than their compatriots in other states.

I believe that attempts to deny women the right to control over their own bodies is as much about controlling women as it is about a belief they’re saving lives for many anti-choice activists. There are many reasons I have for that opinion, but one relates to the issue of state’s rights.

On the whole, the states that are trying to make abortion illegal again are the same ones that didn’t endorse the Equal Rights amendment to the US Constitution.  Take note on the graphic on the right of which states don’t think women should have equal rights to men, and you will see they largely correspond with those that are doing the most to try and prevent women from having control over their own bodies.

The Affect of States’ Rights on Abortion Rights

There are now six states that have only one clinic remaining that provides abortions thanks to anti-choice activism. They are: Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, North Dakota, South Dakota and West Virginia. The last clinic left in Missouri may soon have to close. The only thing currently keeping it open is a court order against the latest state law putting impossible conditions on abortion providers.

These states (and others) make laws with unreasonable conditions that are so difficult to comply with, the clinics have no other choice but to shut down. In that way the states aren’t actually breaking the law that gives women the right to an abortion, it just means there’s nowhere for them to go to get one that’s safe and legal.

According to the Guttmacher Institute, there were 452 clinics in the US that included abortions as part of their services to women in 1996. By 2005 that was 381, and by 2014 it was 272. (There are no data available post-2014.)

  Abortion in Republican-Controlled States

Red states have brought in literally hundreds of laws since 1973 making it more difficult for the women living in them to obtain a safe, legal abortion. Many other laws that sought to do the same have been overturned by the courts due to the advocacy of groups on behalf of women. However, the fact remains that women living in red states have less rights than those living in blue states (i..e. states where the government is in Democratic Party control).

Once again, this is obviously an appalling situation, and one that should not be acceptable to anyone. What should be happening is that women have the same rights across the country. Medical science, social science, and economics all tell us the best thing is for women to have the right to choose whether or not to continue with a pregnancy.

It’s also the best thing if you really want to reduce the number of abortions. There will be those reading this who object to the way I’ve been framing opponents to abortion as anti-choice. They will say this is about saving the lives of unborn babies. However, that is simply not true. All the evidence, from both the US and the rest of the world, shows that making abortion illegal actually increases the number of abortions. If you really want to reduce the number of abortions, the best way to do that is by making it legal. The leaders of the anti-choice movement know this. This is why they focus on the number of abortions taking place, rather than any other data. (More on this below)

Basically, where the Republican Party is in control of government, women are losing the right to control of their own bodies. Donald Trump, a man who changes his position on issues more often than he washes his hands (and he’s a germophobe), has actually kept one of his election promises, and is on track to keeping another. Unfortunately, both relate to making abortion illegal again in the US.

  Trump’s First Promise in Relation to Abortion

Trump made a promise that he would only appoint justices to the US Supreme Court (SCOTUS), as well as judges to other courts, that come with the recommendation of both the Federalist Society and Heritage Foundation. That means (among other things) justices who oppose abortion.

Unfortunately, Trump has had the privilege of appointing two justices to the Supreme Court.

The first, Neil Gorsuch, was a replacement for justice Antonin Scalia who died during the presidency of Barack Obama. However, Republican senate leader Mitch McConnell’s (a Trump enabler) absolute refusal to allow a vote on Obama’s choice (Merrick Garland) to replace him meant it was Trump’s pick that took the vacancy.

The second, Brett Kavanaugh was, if possible, even more controversial. It was clear he had a history of, at the very least, not treating women as equals. However, all Republicans, and even one (male) Democrat, still voted for him.

As a result, a majority Supreme Court justices are all personally anti-choice. This has led to a hive of activity amongst anti-choice activists in red states. Each wants to be the first to get a Bill from their own state attracting enough opposition from those who are pro-choice that it makes it through the courts to the Supreme Court level. At that point, they hope the Court will take the opportunity to make abortion illegal again.

This, they think will make them heroes in the anti-choice movement, which it probably will. Perhaps more importantly to many, they will feel they have done God’s will. That’s because for most of them, it’s their faith that informs them when it comes to this issue, not the facts.

  Abortion, God, and the Election of  Donald Trump

Abortion is one of the main reasons more than 80% of Evangelicals, and a sizable chunk of other conservative Christians, gave Trump their vote in 2016. A majority of Evangelicals even go so far as to believe it was God who made Trump president, and stopping abortion was the reason He did it.

To believe that God made Donald Trump President of the USA sounds, well, unbelievable. However, you only have to do a Google search on the topic to find multiple links to articles and videos of people who believe this. And don’t be tempted to dismiss the belief as a coming from a small fringe element either.

Sarah Sanders

Former White House Press Secretary Sarah Sanders said in an interview in January with the Christian Broadcasting Network:

I think God calls all of us to fill different roles at different times, and I think that He wanted Donald Trump to become president, and that’s why he’s there, and I think he has done a tremendous job in supporting a lot of the things people of faith really care about.

That interview continued with an exchange attacking Democrats for anti-Semitism.

(Here, I must compliment all those Trump-supporting a$$ho£€$ marching and chanting, “Jews will not replace us,” and “Blood and soil,” in Charlottesville in 2017 for how well they hid their affiliation to the Democratic party. /sarcasm)

Next the interview turned to the issues on the southern border. That led to mention of House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-California) calling the wall “immoral”. This somehow enabled Sanders to segue to abortion:

I mean honestly, it’s very hard at this point to even take a lecture from Democrats on what is moral and what isn’t. People who are willing to allow legislation to pass supporting late-term abortion, the idea that they would take out, “so help me God in the platform,” the House Democrats have raised this week …

Sarah Sanders views on abortion an God when she was in the White House were by no means unique.

  The Future of Sarah Sanders

The evidence is that Sarah Sanders is returning to her Bible Belt state of Arkansas in order to start campaigning to become its governor. Her father is former Arkansas governor and twice candidate to be Republican presidential nominee, Mike Huckabee. So her chances aren’t as remote as you might imagine. However, whether or not she gets the job, her particular set of principles are ones that are typical of a Bible Belt politician.

Governor Huckabee has clearly been a big influence in his daughter’s life. It’s obviously a good thing for a father and daughter to have a good relationship. However, when that father does things like blame the Sandy Hook massacre on the Bible no longer being in schools, you have to wonder whether some kind of intervention was in order.

He’s also always made his own opposition to abortion clear. This graphic is from one of his successful gubernatorial races.

And this is an example of a Huckabee tweet (iirc, I made the screen capture of this tweet in 2015):

To me, these views seem extreme, but they’re typical of the majority in the Bible Belt of the USA. I originally made a copy of the tweet above, and some others by the governor, because I felt an enormous amount of hate emanating from them. I thought about Christians, including the governor, telling people that Christianity is all about love, but I think they express a quite different mindset.

  What Does the Bible Say About Abortion?

As with so many things, it’s pretty hard to get a clear direction from the Bible on abortion. Besides that, Christians are pretty good at only following which parts of it suit them at the best of times. Eating pork, getting tattoos, and even decorating a tree to celebrate Christmas are all things that are forbidden in the Bible. However, you will also have no trouble finding web pages that provide arguments why it’s okay to do those things, no matter how literal your reading of the Bible.

If they want to do something forbidden in the Bible, they will find a way to make it okay. If they want to make a group of people the subject of their derision of hatred, they will.

  The Bible does appear to consider abortion wrong. However, unlike many anti-choice activists, it does not appear to consider it murder. The punishment in the Bible for murder is death. “A life for a life.” Women who abort a child do not face this punishment in the Bible. Therefore, I think it’s safe to assume that abortion is not considered murder.

That’s not the interpretation of many conservative Christians though. The conservative Catholic website, Crisis Magazine has a ‘Reproductive Rights Glossary for the UnWoke‘. I didn’t know whether to laugh or be angry when I first read it. However, every article I’ve read in the magazine in the past has made me angry, so that is probably what they’re going for in people like me. (I’m the liberal, pro-choice, pro-marriage equality, atheist, outspoken feminist you were warned about.) The magazine’s combination of ignorance, intelligence, and influence over a large number of people worries me greatly.

When it comes to information about abortion, Crisis Magazine‘s readers would be far better off reading Valerie Tarico’s ‘Right-Wing Christians’ Hostility to Science Destroys Lives‘. It’s one of the best things I’ve ever read on the subject, and I can’t recommend it highly enough.

  The Attempts of Republican States to Ban Abortion Nationwide

There are now eight states in the US competing for the title of “Most Draconian Abortion Laws”. They are: Alabama, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Ohio, and Utah. By no coincidence, those states have several other things in common. They’re all not only reliably Republican, they are all strong supporters of President Trump. All also have a larger than average conservative Christian population. (Alabama is the most religious state; Mississippi is third; Arkansas is fifth; Georgia is sixth.) Most are also among the most poorly educated states.

It’s not good for a state’s economy either. Most of these states are also very poor financially, and their stance doesn’t help that. Companies these days are putting their money where their mouth is when it comes to doing the right thing. Several states saw what happened when they tried to enact anti-transgender legislation. The same is now happening with anti-choice legislation. For example, AMC’s flagship TV show, The Walking Dead, is considering leaving Georgia after nine seasons. The reason? Georgia’s foetal heartbeat bill.

Republicans, Abortion, and Morality

Most countries believe the fallacy that being religious equals being moral. In most Western democracies a majority hold the belief that Christianity equals morality, though this belief is steadily declining.  The belief is stronger in the US than most, and conservative Christians in particular believe they have cornered the market when it comes to morality. Since Ronald Reagan’s call to the Moral Majority, Republicans have embraced their role as their country’s moral police. (This wasn’t a new role for them, but it became a greater part of their core identity with Reagan.)

Of course, the reality is that on most measures that society considers represent morality, it’s atheists that are, on average, the most moral US citizens, and a majority of them vote or lean Democrat. (I wrote about this, with the evidence, almost five years ago.)  We’re also constantly getting evidence that the so-called Moral Majority are, in reality, a bunch of hypocrites. It seems hardly a week goes by without another breaking story that exposes a leader of the Moral Majority. A recent one was Jerry Falwell Jr., president of the evangelical Liberty University. (You can see Rachel Maddow’s (MSNBC) excellent take on the events here.)

  The Anti-Choice or Forced-Birth Movement

Those who are anti-abortion call themselves “pro-life”. This moniker could not be further from the truth. As mentioned above, making abortion illegal actually increases the number of abortions.

I am not refusing to refer to them as “pro-life” to get at them in any way, but because the term is simply not accurate. The terms “anti-choice” and “forced birth” are both more accurate, and that’s why I use them.

I also find it really, really annoying that many in the anti-choice movement represent women who have abortions as simply using abortion as a form of contraception.

Another person, whatever their gender, cannot imagine what any individual goes through when they discover they have an unplanned pregnancy. Some forced-birth activists present abortion as if women use it as a form of contraception. They produce anecdotes of women casually having multiple abortions as if this is common.

The truth is very different. The fact that a woman has chosen to terminate the pregnancy does not mean the choice was easy. For most it’s one of the most difficult decisions she will ever make. On top of that, one of the things that makes it far more difficult is the stigma around that choice. And, it is anti-choice activists who create that stigma. They make what is already a difficult choice far harder. They speak of the emotional harm a women suffers for the rest of her life, but most or all of that harm is because of the rhetoric of anti-choice activists.

The Lack of Compassion of Anti-Choice Activists

What especially concerns me about many of those in the US who are part of the forced-birth movement is that their care for the foetus that can’t, in their words, “speak for itself”, does not extend to:

1. The cost of any care of the foetus’ (e.g. healthcare) before it’s born.

2. The cost of any care of the baby/child after it’s born (e.g. healthcare, education, housing, food). This is especially the case if the child they are forcing to be born has some form of special/high needs.

3. The cost of any of the needs of the mother either before or after the birth (e.g. healthcare, child care, interruption in education/career, mental health care).

4. The cost of the needs of the future child’s siblings. The parent/s may no longer be able to afford to help with the cost of tertiary education, for example.

5. The cost of any of the needs of the father (e.g. mental health due to the expectations around caring for a child or a larger family). The Guttmacher report notes that a large proportion of abortions are for women who already have several children. The abortion is because they feel they simply cannot afford another child mentally, physically, emotionally, or financially.

  The Myth of “Pro-Life”

Those who oppose abortion say they are doing so to save the lives of all the babies who would have been born if there was no abortion. This is absolute codswallop. The stupidity of it perhaps makes me even angrier than the attack on women’s rights because of what the truth really is.

Making abortion illegal does NOT mean no more abortions. What it means is:

1.Women being forced by desperation into breaking the law.

2. Women DYING from what is a simple medical procedure when carried out by a properly trained medical professional.

3. More women, especially poor women, suffering long-term medical complications.

4. More women being trapped in poverty.

5. More children suffering because their parent/parents have more children than they can look after financially, physically, emotionally, or mentally.

6. People, especially women, being trapped in unfulfilling (or even abusive) relationships because couples stay together, “for the sake of the child/ren.”

7. Places like Planned Parenthood forced to close. That means a lack of information about, and access to, contraception as well as other healthcare needs. It also means women who don’t have an abortion, which is most of their clients, lose access to healthcare.

Making Abortion Illegal Increases the Number of Abortions

But most of all, the evidence is that making abortion illegal does NOT reduce the number of abortions. The US’s Guttmacher Institute produced a comprehensive study: Abortion Worldwide 2017 (pdf here). It states:

Abortions occur as frequently in the two most-restrictive categories of countries (banned outright or allowed only to save the woman’s life) as in the least-restrictive category (allowed without restriction as to reason)—37 and 34 per 1,000 women, respectively.

Yes, you read that correctly. There are more abortions where it is illegal or heavily restricted than where it’s freely available.

    More Sex Education and More Contraception are the Best Ways to Stop Abortion

It bears repeating. Note those figures in the quote above from the Guttmacher Institute report. There are actually, on average, more abortions in countries where it’s illegal or heavily restricted. The report concludes that’s because legal abortion usually goes hand-in-hand with better access to, and knowledge of, contraception.

What makes that second sentence important is that Christians from the far right usually not only oppose abortion, they oppose contraception too. Most especially, they oppose education about sex and contraception for teenagers. Their advice is to stay a virgin until you marry and spend your fertile years either pregnant, or trying to get that way.

A Lesson from Colorado

Valerie Tarico’s article (same one referred to above) was written in response to an initiative in Colorado in 2015. It begins:

When a pilot program in Colorado offered teens state-of-the-art long acting contraceptives—IUD’s and implants—teen births plummeted by 40% [3], along with a drop in abortions [4]. The program saved the state 42.5 million dollars [5] in a single year, over five times what it cost. But rather than extending or expanding the program, some Colorado Republicans are trying to kill it—even if this stacks the odds against Colorado families. Why? Because they insist, wrongly, that IUD’s work by killing embryos, which they believe are sacred. This claim, which is based in bad faith and scientific ignorance, undermines fiscal prudence and flourishing families.

Gloria Steinman was on CNN’s Amanpour recently. They spoke about Alabama’s new abortion law. She pointed out that before Roe v Wade, one in three women in the US had an abortion. Following it, that dropped to one in four. The US followed the same world trend: the more freely available abortion is, the less it occurs. Therefore, it’s likely that if the anti-choice activists succeed in making abortion illegal again, this will actually increase the number of abortions.

  The Example of Nazi Germany

Like me, Steinman sees the current attacks on women’s independence as part of the international increase in white nationalism and authoritarianism. She noted that the first impulse of every authoritarian government she has ever studied is to control reproduction because it’s the single thing they can’t imitate.

Steinman further pointed out one of the very first acts of that most famous of authoritarians and white nationalists – Adolf Hitler.  When he first took control his bully boys were immediately physically padlocking all the Family Planning clinics. At the same time,  he made abortion an act against the state. Abortion doctors were given death sentences, and women wanting abortions were put in prison in order to force them to give birth. Those women he didn’t want giving birth (and the men he didn’t want fathering children) were either sterilized or murdered.

I’m not, of course, suggesting that’s this a path that Trump and the Republicans are going to go down. However, Trump makes no secret of the fact he believes he’s in possession of superior genes. And, the white nationalist movement thinks we’re already in a race war and embrace the theories of eugenicists.

  Alabama’s New Abortion Law

When I see the photo (below) of Alabama Governor, Kay Ivey, proudly signing her state’s Bill making abortion illegal, wearing her Republican-red suit, I see the colour of blood. The blood of all the women who will die because of that Bill is on her hands. It’s also on the hands of the men in the Alabama senate who voted for the Bill. And I say, “men” for a reason; not a single woman in that senate gave it her support.

Today, I signed into law the Alabama Human Life Protection Act. To the bill’s many supporters, this legislation stands as a powerful testament to Alabamians’ deeply held belief that every life is precious & that every life is a sacred gift from God. https://t.co/DwKJyAjSs8 pic.twitter.com/PIUQip6nmw

— Governor Kay Ivey (@GovernorKayIvey) May 15, 2019

Governor Ivey notes in the tweet above that her faith is the reason for her opposition to abortion. As with most anti-abortion rhetoric, that’s misguided. Due to a life of being told that by her church, she probably believes that God opposes abortion. But, as so often with the deeply religious, there’s a failure of independent thought. Like so many of the deeply religious, it’s unlikely she’s read the Bible from cover to cover. She probably relies on religious leaders for her view on the subject. That’s understandable, but a bad example in a leader.

This Act also exemplifies why I think such legislation is more about controlling women. While it prevents women from having abortions, it does not apply to frozen embryos.

  Exceptions for Rape, Incest, and the Life of the Mother

Most abortion bills have exceptions if the pregnancy is the result of rape or incest, or if it would endanger the life of the mother. Notably, at least two of these latest bills, Alabama and Missouri, do not have rape and incest exceptions. This is apparently deliberate as the writers of the bills believe this is more likely to get them to the Supreme Court.

However, even most of those who are anti-choice and want to force women to give birth, also want to see an exception for rape and incest. They acknowledge that in these cases a woman should have a choice whether she carries the foetus to term. They can see that the choice of the woman, who is already a person, should take precedence over something that only has the potential to be a person. In such cases, they are able to empathize with the woman.

So, why do they feel differently when a woman becomes pregnant against her will but whose sexual activity was willing? This is often where conservative religion takes control of their thought processes. Sex was a choice, so suffer the consequences. The high failure rate of many contraceptives doesn’t move them. If they’re not married, they shouldn’t be having sex anyway.

The Role of Right-Wing Media

Further, thanks to right-wing media like Fox News, many who are anti-choice make the assumption that all women wanting an abortion are single. They think women are using abortion as a form of contraception and it’s something they do easily and casually.

This all gives them a picture of women who have abortions as young, sexually promiscuous, irresponsible, and, most importantly, not behaving in a manner that meets with God’s approval. In their eyes, such women should suffer in some way. An unwanted pregnancy meets that criteria; everyone will know they’ve been sinning.

(Here, we also see the danger of the Christian belief in free will. I won’t discuss determinism in this post, but in the unlikely event you don’t know what it is, look it up. Neither the women or the men, of course, had no choice whether they had sex.)

The interesting thing is, the abortion rate in many religiously conservative states are among the highest in the country. Women from religiously conservative families are able to justify their own abortions while still condemning all other women.

Abortion Rate per 1000 women aged 15-44 (Click graphic to go to source.)

  Why Are Women Wanting An Abortion Different?

Republicans think government should stay out of their lives and there should be as few laws as possible. This rule of no rules, however, doesn’t seem to apply when it comes to women. They, it seems, should have to put up with anything, especially if they’re pregnant. The Federalist Society doesn’t believe women should have the freedom to choose what to do with their own bodies. If a woman is pregnant, she should, in their opinion, have to continue with the pregnancy no matter what the circumstances.

While the Republican party says it’s all about removing government from people’s lives, again, that doesn’t seem to apply to women. They insist they support equality for women, but the evidence does not support that.

Over and over again, when there is legislation in relation to women’s rights and equality for women, the Republican Party fails to support it.

The GOP is constantly making itself harder to vote for. It has become the party of Trump, and his antics are chasing voter away. Women and people of colour in particular no longer feel they have a place in the party.

However, many voters say they don’t care about the things he says as long as the things he changes are ones they like. Conservative and Evangelical Christians are over the moon about a conservative Supreme Court for decades to come. Further, if they vote for him in 2020, there’s a good chance he’ll be able to make another appointment given the state of Ruth Bader-Ginsburg’s health. There is plenty of evidence of religious hypocrisy in the world for any of us to think Trump’s disgusting racism, misogyny, ignorance, narcissism, and all the rest, will stop them voting for him again.

The Democratic Party has to give voters something to vote for. Voting against Trump won’t cut it. Only with a Democratic administration can a woman’s right to choose start to become safe again.

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    Abortion and the GOP Before we go any further, I should note that I am unapologetically pro-choice. I've been pro-choice for as long as I can remember.